


Cratology

by MeinongsJungleBook



Series: Until All Slag Falls Away [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anti-Hero Starscream, Blackmail, Character Study, Complicated Relationships, Moral Philosophy, Other, Politics, Prophecy, Relationship Study, Religion, Scheming, Starscream is trying ok, an interpretation of the events of TAAO #12, awkward affection, grey morality, political machinations, power struggles, references to past abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2019-10-05 10:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17322965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeinongsJungleBook/pseuds/MeinongsJungleBook
Summary: Starscream is intent on winning the Cybertronian elections legitimately, but this is easier said than done.





	1. Someone On Your Side

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aurobot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurobot/gifts).



> Inspired by discussions with [Aurobot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurobot/profile), and written as a gift for her birthday.

All things considered, things had been going very well lately, Bumblebee thought. Sure, Starscream had brainwashed a bunch of extremely dangerous, combiner-capable Decepticon thugs and made them his ever-present bodyguards while knowing that one of them, the one who despised him the most, was aware of the brainwashing and could reveal it to the others at any moment. Also, they were all living under the shadow of the pending return of an ancient, evil Prime intent on exacting vengeance on the lot of them. There was also the whole business concerning the apparently magical beings now living underground that had poisoned the planet’s energon supply, making them reliant on the humans who for the most part hated them. But still, _relatively speaking_ , things had been going very well.

Ever since Starscream had resurfaced from his mind meld with Windblade, he had been different; there had been a shift in the jet’s attitude that was subtle to outsiders, but glaringly obvious to Bee. He had become more positive, more reasonable, and more receptive to Bee’s advice. Bee might even go so far as to say _compassionate_ …no, that probably was going a bit too far, but still, he was more compassionate than he was before at least. Given that these days Bee’s life – well, his death –pretty much revolved around trying to nudge Starscream in the right direction for Cybertron’s sake (and, increasingly, for Starscream’s sake as well), this development had left him in a cheerful state, despite the cloud of the typical drama that hung over them.

There was something that outweighed his cheer however, and that was his nagging curiosity. When Starscream had been patched into Windblade’s mind, Bee had waited anxiously by his side until the moment both jets awoke, and a wave of relief, joy and pride had momentarily overwhelmed him. He’d waited until Windblade and Starscream had finished exchanging words – an exchange Bee lacked the context to understand – and Windblade had left the room, before letting a deluge of emotional words tumble from his lips about how glad he was that Starscream had survived and had been able to bring Windblade with him. Starscream had turned from at staring at the doorway Windblade had left through to then stare at Bee with the kind of shocked expression worn by someone who wasn’t used to hearing people say they were happy to see them alive, an expression which then softened into something a little bit sweeter. Then Bee couldn’t help himself; he bombarded Starscream with questions about what had happened while his mind had been joined with Windblade’s, desperate to know what he had missed. Bee had been privy to almost every moment of Starscream’s life over the last few years, and knowing he had missed something major was more frustrating to him than he ever would have imagined.

Starscream however denied him the details; he dismissed Bee’s questions with the assertion that he’d already know, being a part of his imagination and all, and like so many times before, Bumblebee wanted to throttle him. In the days that followed, Starscream spent a lot of time alone in his apartment and offices, staring out the windows at his city. Brooding was hardly a novel behaviour for him, but this was unlike his typical simmering rage and paranoid ruminating; instead he had an air of contemplation and introspection about him. Unable to tolerate not knowing, Bee continued to nag at him for information about what had happened during the patch, but Starscream only gave him vague, cryptic answers. 

Starscream’s shift in attitude culminated in his decision to hold elections and his seemingly genuine insistence that he was going to win them legitimately. Once again, Bee had to ask him what he had seen while linked to Windblade’s mind, and once again Starscream gave him a cryptic answer, “The Chosen One,” he told Bee, leaving the minibot with nothing but more questions.

Rattrap appeared before Bumblebee could pester him for further details, but once Starscream sent him away with his proclamations about the elections, Bee was quick to needle at him, “What do you mean you saw the Chosen One, and what did Windblade mean when she said that you saw the you that was never allowed to be? _C’mon_ Starscream, you can’t keep leaving me hanging like this. You’ve told me plenty of times how annoying you think I am; do you really want to give me a reason to be even more annoying by endlessly asking you about this?”

That evoked a small, amused smile from Starscream, which mellowed out into a thoughtful expression as he fiddled with the stylus in his hands. After a moment he looked at Bumblebee and asked, “Have you ever had a moment of absolute clarity Bee? A moment where you knew with certainty what you _truly_ wanted?”

“A few,” Bee replied, recalling the fleeting glimpses of truth he had caught over his four million years of life, which had fuelled his convictions and guided him through the consuming chaos of war.

“While I was joined with Windblade…I saw through all the uncertainty and confusion for a moment, and found the path I need to take,” Starscream said softly, almost furtively.

“A path that leads Cybertron to a better future?” Bee asked, soft wonder in his voice.

Starscream nodded slowly, “It’s what I’m meant to do. It’s who I am.”

Bee smiled at Starscream, tender and adoring, “I’m glad you’ve seen in yourself what I see in you.”

Starscream’s optics widened for a second before he quickly averted his gaze, but he wore a small smile as he returned to his work. Bee watched him with a giddy feeling spinning in his spark; he was more hopeful now than he’d been in…he didn’t even know how long. More than he had been when the war ended. Since he’d found himself inexplicably tethered to Starscream he’d been trying to use the situation to help Cybertron in the only way he possibly could – by influencing Starscream – and from the beginning it had all seemed like an utterly hopeless endeavour. Bumblebee had expected Starscream to be too shallow and self-centred, too devoid of anything resembling principles that he could appeal to, for Bee to be able to effect any positive change by whispering in his audial. Still, he felt obligated to try.

As Bumblebee spent more time with Starscream, in the jet’s otherwise private moments, he came to the realisation that Starscream wasn’t nearly as empty as he had previously thought; there was a complex, roiling emotional and psychological core at his centre, hidden under layers and layers of deceit and paranoia. In this mix, Bee caught glimpses of potential – of principles, feelings and longings – that if harnessed and brought to the surface, could actually make Starscream a good leader for Cybertron. But there was so much neurotic slag mired over the top of the potential that lay within that Bee didn’t know if it would ever be able to break through. Bee had tried to help him nonetheless.

Now it seemed as though that spark of goodness that lay at Starscream’s core had been ignited, and it was burning its way outwards to break through to the surface and shine. If Cybertron’s leader was honestly becoming a good person, then that would put the planet in position it hadn’t been in for a very, _very_ long time. Bee’s processor swam as he considered the notion – could this _actually_ be the start of a new Golden Age? Still, as much as that notion excited him, Bee was the kind of bot who was inclined to focus on the world on a more personal level, so it was the thought of what this change meant for Starscream himself that especially enthralled the little Autobot.

Bee wondered how the dynamics were going to shift within the closest thing Starscream had to an inner circle once the transformation he was undergoing became more obvious to them. What would The Council make of it? What would Optimus make of it? Or Wheeljack? Would Windblade be surprised, or did she already know all about the truth that lay within, since she had been involved in coaxing it to the surface? Would Starscream go from having pawns and tentative allies at best to having actual, sincere friends? _Bee dearly hoped so._ One thing he was fairly sure of was that the shock Rattrap had shown when Starscream had announced the elections was only a little taste of the reactions yet to come.

_Rattrap._ A worry wormed its way into Bee’s mind; the scheming nature of Starscream’s number one lackey was hardly a secret, in fact it had been exactly the reason Starscream had hired him in the first place, something Bee had always thought to be completely insane. He’d repeatedly asked Starscream why he’d done something so plainly stupid, but this was another instance where the jet refused to provide any satisfying answer, often brushing Bee off by telling him that he didn’t expect him to understand. Bumblebee had tried to work an answer out of Starscream because of his baffled curiosity, but back in the earlier period of his spectral association with the former Decepticon he hadn’t actually cared if Starscream reaped what he’d very much sown by offering Rattrap a place at his side. The notion of Starscream getting taken down by one of his underlings had seemed like perfect poetry to him then. Now however, Bee realised that he no longer wanted that, not at all. He decided that if Rattrap was up to something…well, it wasn’t so much a question of “if” as “what”, and whatever it was, he had to find out.

***

Bumblebee spent the following afternoon trailing Rattrap instead of spending the time with Starscream as he usually did, as they were the hours Bee thought Rattrap would have the most time free for scheming. In these hours Bee witnessed a number of things he quite honestly would have rather gone without seeing, but he didn’t see Rattrap doing anything incriminating…well, he did, but just not in the sense Bee was looking out for. Satisfied for the time being that Rattrap didn’t seem to be up to anything at the current moment, Bee returned to Starscream’s apartment. Bumblebee found Starscream pacing anxiously, and the jet’s wings gave a tiny twitch when he spotted him.

“…is everything alright?” Bee asked, wondering what calamity had befallen them this time.

Starscream replied with a question of his own, a subtle note of accusation in his tone, “Where were you?”

“I was out gathering information,” Bee answered, frowning.

“Hmm…sure. Fine,” Starscream responded, something clearly off, and Bee was empathetic enough to figure out what it was pretty quickly.  

“I’m not going to leave you again Starscream,” Bee promised with a soothing smile, “you don’t have to worry about that.”

Starscream bristled a little, refusing to make optic contact, “Don’t be stupid; if you think that I…I… _never mind_ ,” he mumbled.

Bee couldn’t help but give a small, wry smile, “I don’t mind at all.”

The next day Bee spent the working hours with Starscream as was normal, but when the off hours approached he decided he should spend some time trailing Rattrap again, “I’m going out for a while,” he told Starscream as he headed for the door.

“Why?” asked Starscream, looking up from his desk. He was working overtime, something he did more often than not, especially now that the elections were approaching.

“I want to do some more reconnaissance,” Bee told him.

Starscream gave a small pout of displeasure, “I was about to show you the plans for the new college and employment centre.”

“I’ll see them tomorrow,” Bee reassured him.

“Hmph, I’ll be busy designing the power hub tomorrow,” Starscream muttered.

Bumblebee gave a sigh. Starscream’s paranoia was wide reaching, but it was especially virulent where personal relationships were concerned. Last time Bee had left him, Starscream’s emotional deterioration had been rapid, and now he was getting it into his head that Bee was planning on disappearing again. Bumblebee reconsidered his reconnaissance; did he really want to do anything that might throw Starscream emotionally off-kilter at such a vital time? Not only were the elections approaching, but Starscream was also undergoing an unprecedented period of personal growth, and Bee felt that he should be there to encourage and nurture the change, not doing anything to disrupt it. Anyway, Rattrap had been working for Starscream for years now, and hadn’t managed to topple his boss yet, so what were the chances that tonight would be the night his winning scheme would come together? But then…what better opportunity would he have to get rid of Starscream than during election time?

Bee weighed things up for a moment, torn by what he felt were valid opposing points, before what was essentially a mental coin toss led him to say, “I need to look out for you Starscream.” He did the best to convey the sincerity of his words with his tone and expression.

Starscream’s paranoia was powerful, but even it was unable to withstand the full force of Bumblebee’s sincerity, “…fine,” Starscream sighed, sounding disappointed, but not betrayed.

There were a number of places Bee figured that Rattrap might currently be found, but he decided to check his apartment first. Bee’s spectral state had on odd effect on his sensory perception of the external world; he could see and hear the things around him just as well as when he had been alive, but his sense of touch was greatly reduced. When he brushed up against anything that wasn’t his own phantom body, he was able to feel a vague tingling, but little else. His electromagnetic sense was actually slightly heighted, like it was when he was in vehicle mode and it had to compensate for his inactive optics. His sense of smell was somewhere in the middle; not as good as it was when he was alive, but still powerful enough to pick up on reasonably strong scents. Phasing through the wall of Rattrap’s apartment, Bee was glad for the diminished olfactory sense his ghostly state had left him with, because he could detect a faint whiff of something that he knew would border on overpowering if he had to smell it while still alive.

Bee surveyed the crusty surfaces of the fairly high-end apartment that Rattrap had managed to convert into a sty and found no trace of the bot. He was about to move on when he heard the door open and saw Rattrap skulk inside; he kicked some empty energon canisters out of his path as he made his way over to main table of the open living space, and flopped down onto one of the chairs seated around it. He regarded some spilled energon that had crystallised on the table’s surface, before picking at it and then placing some of the crystals in his mouth and giving them an experimental munch. He started to feel around the underside of the table, until a soft click was heard and a compartment hidden within the table opened up and Rattrap pulled a briefcase from it, which he then placed on the table.

Bee moved to peer over Rattrap’s shoulder as he opened the case, revealing a pair of data pads inside. Their screens were dark, and they had no external labels, so Bee was unable to determine what information they contained. Rattrap then got up from his seat and walked over to his couch, before he got down on his hands and knees in front of it and reached underneath, feeling around for something. He ended up pulling another two unlabelled data pads from under the couch which he then placed on the table near the briefcase. With escalating intrigue, Bee watched Rattrap pull more and more data pads from nooks and crannies around his recharge slab and energon dispensary, before he saw him transform into beast mode to scramble into a crawlspace tucked away at the back of his apartment. He remerged after about a minute clutching six more data pads in his mouth.

Rattrap spat the data pads onto the table before he transformed back into robot mode and seated himself once more. He started to place the data pads into the briefcase, but not before quickly double-checking the content of each one by briefly activating them to show what information they contained. Bee took the opportunity to get a glimpse himself, and his spark turned cold. Rattrap had been compiling information about every single one of Starscream’s dirty dealings since he’d come into power, and in the build up to elections, it was more than enough to topple Starscream from position as Cybertron’s leader.

***

“Starscream!” Bumblebee bellowed as he charged into Starscream’s apartment. Starscream jumped as the energon he had been pouring for himself missed the cube and spilled over his table, and instincts instilled in him from four million years’ worth of hearing his name roared in fury compelled him to ready his T-cog and start eyeing the room for nearby exits.

“ _What?_ ” he hissed in annoyance as he regained his composure.

“It’s Rattrap! He’s got a briefcase full of your dirty secrets and he’s getting ready to use it against you _right now_ ,” Bumblebee said urgently.

Starscream’s optics widened, “What?” he said, a note of horror in his voice.

“Why didn’t you do anything about him earlier? You _knew_ he was scheming behind your back but you never seriously tried to put a stop to it! _Why did you even hire him in first place?_ ” Bee knew that digging into Starscream at this moment wasn’t the best use of their time, but he couldn’t help himself; his tremendous confusion and frustration over the matter were making it irresistible to ask now that Starscream could no longer deny the problem.

“I-I…because I-” Starscream stammered, at a loss to explain his own decisions. “I don’t know,” he finally confessed, burying his face in his hand. “Or…I’m not sure.”

“You have to deal with it _now_ ,” Bumblebee told him in a tone that was more collected, but no less urgent.

Starscream briskly strode over to his balcony, “I know,” he said as he transformed.


	2. Rat Trap

Starscream’s division of the Decepticons had been called the Seekers for a number of reasons, but the most obvious among those reasons was their role in seeking out targets, whether it be for the sake of recruiting them, capturing them, or destroying them. Despite the supposed era of peace his planet currently enjoyed, Starscream continued to wear frames that were optimised for war, which included the sensory enhancements that helped him seek out targets from the air while in jet mode. Rattrap may have already left his apartment, so Starscream scanned the streets along any paths he expected the rat might take from his home, especially those that led to the homes and offices of the press. Knowing Rattrap however, there was a good chance that he had transformed into beast mode and taken the sewers and secret passages beneath the city, in which case there would be no way Starscream would be able to detect him from the air. Primus, Rattrap was _optimised_ to evade predatory jets that hunted in the skies – _why_ had Starscream selected a bot specifically built for countering his abilities to occupy a position where he was best placed to spy on and undermine him? And **_why_** had he picked a bot he knew had every intention of doing just that? Starscream cursed himself as he continued to hunt.

He heard Bee’s voice raise a cautious query, “Starscream…what are you planning to do to Rattrap once you find him?”

“What needs to be done,” Starscream replied.

Bee was silent for a moment, before he said, “Just remember that there are always options.”

Starscream didn’t respond.

He didn’t detect any sign of Rattrap on the route to his apartment, and when he arrived there he landed outside as quietly as he could. Starscream raised a hand to the keypad on the door, about to enter the codes that would give him forced entry into his underling’s home, when the door slid open to reveal Rattrap standing there holding a briefcase, looking up at Starscream in shock. He immediately started to scramble backwards while transforming into beast mode, but Starscream caught one of the legs of his beast form and flung him at his couch, causing him to transform back into robot mode on impact. The briefcase he had been clutching flew out of his grasp as Starscream tossed him, and opened when it hit the ground, scattering data pads over the floor.

Starscream stalked over to the couch and loomed over his subordinate. Rattrap looked up at him fearfully, no doubt weighing up the options of fight and flight in his mind. Starscream considered his own options; killing Rattrap would be the simplest way to just end this here and now. No one really cared about the rodent enough to investigate all that deeply if he were to disappear, and his little head could come off so easily… _no_ , best to manifest his weapons if he was going to dispose of Rattrap. Hand-to-hand was probably the one form of combat where there was some chance that the rat might come out on top in this situation. He’d looked into Rattrap’s files and found footage of him in battle; he fought as dirty and as shamelessly as Starscream did, using his teeth and claws to dig into the most sensitive wiring of a bot and tear it out with rabid viciousness. A sword to slit the cabling feeding energon to his brain module, rapidly followed by another through his spark – that would do it, and leave less mess than using anything explosive (not that it would make much difference given the filth Rattrap chose to live in).

Yet…Starscream didn’t manifest any weapons. This wasn’t how he had imagined this scenario, and he _had_ imagined this scenario before, hadn’t he? He’d imagined it on the day he’d invited Rattrap to work for him, knowing full well that the fantasy would in all likelihood become a reality someday. In this fantasy he found Rattrap scheming to overthrow him, and Starscream had proceeded to remind him of his place using violence and cruel words, teaching him the most important lesson he could impart, before letting him live and retain his position, to wait for the cycle to repeat once more.

Starscream gave a small, involuntary shudder as he said, “Took you long enough.”

“But it looks like I couldn’t get one over on ya in the end, eh boss?” replied Rattrap. He was probably trying to encourage Starscream to gloat, so that he’d have time to figure out a way to escape, Starscream figured. Why not indulge him a little? A final kindness before he took his life.

“Oh you came close, I can admit that much, but it still wasn’t enough. Your aspirations to rule Cybertron end here Rattrap,” Starscream hissed.

“Actually, I was gonna try ta give it ta Windblade,” Rattrap responded.

“What?” Starscream replied, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I was gonna give all the dirt I have on ya ta her and let her decide if she wanted ta use it ta win,” Rattrap told him.

Starscream narrowed his optics, “In exchange for what exactly?”

Rattrap shrugged, “A leader who wants what’s best for Cybertron?”

“ _Don’t give me that scrap!_ ” Starscream found himself screeching. “What were _you_ going to get out of it? What were you going to demand from her in exchange for your blackmail?”

“Nuffin’,” Rattrap replied, “I was plannin’ on resignin’ afterwards; lyin’ low on Eukaris or something for a while. Somewhere with no more paperwork.”

“ _You’re lying!_ ” Starscream hissed furiously. “You want my position! You want my power! You always have! But you’ll never have it! You’ll try over and over again to take it but you’ll never succeed because _that’s how it works!_ ”

Starscream was now shrieking hysterically, and Rattrap took it as his opportunity to leap from the couch and make a dash for the exit, but Starscream’s reflexes were just a little too fast, and he slammed him back onto the couch. Starscream pinned Rattrap with his hand pressing heavily into his subordinate’s chest, and leaned down so that his face was right in Rattrap’s as he desperately whispered, “ _You’re not better than me_.”

Starscream’s mind was a turbulent mess of distressing emotions; rage, confusion and denial bombarded him, but a voice broke through the chaos, “Starscream! Starscream what are you doing? Settle down! _Please!_ ” Bumblebee begged, and Starscream found some measure of self-control return to him as he backed away a little from his terrified aide, though he kept him pinned.

When Starscream spoke again, his voice was far more measured, “…what do you want Rattrap? What do I need to offer you to stop you from exposing me?”

Rattrap’s optics were already wide with fear, but they managed to widen even further in surprise, “So ya not just going ta kill me ta keep me quiet then?”

“…I’d rather not,” Starscream answered, simply and sincerely.

“Well then maybe you’ve already given me what I want,” Rattrap said, something approaching hope entering his voice. “I was gonna let Windblade decide what ta do with you, cos after you announced the elections, I wasn’t so sure anymore. I guess you really have changed, eh?”

Starscream removed his hand from Rattrap’s chest and backed away, feeling extremely awkward and out of his element. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before he found himself compelled to say, “I killed Metalhawk.”

“Er, I know,” Rattrap answered, uncertain of where exactly this was going.

“I know that you know,” Starscream said quietly, “that’s why I can tell you. I’d forgotten how betrayal is different when someone doesn’t see it coming; when they actually like you, care about you, even trust you. So much better to have someone around who you can rely on to betray you, don’t you agree?”

Now Rattrap was the one who looked thoroughly uncomfortable, “Er…I ‘spose that’s one way of lookin’ at it.”

“Did you still want to resign?” Starscream asked him.

“Well…yeah,” Rattrap perked up a little, “…if ya still offering me a bribe, a juicy severance package would be a good start. And gimme your contacts on Eukaris so I can find a cushy job there. No paperwork.”

“Fine,” Starscream answered, feeling…strangely cleansed. He walked over to where the data pads were scattered and started picking them up and snapping them in half with his hands, tossing the rubbish into the briefcase as he went. “Did you make any copies of these?” Starscream asked, unsure at this point whether to expect an honest answer.

“None that I’ve kept; I wanted Windblade ta be the only one with the info,” Rattrap replied as he turned the awkward position he had landed in after having been flung onto the couch into a more natural slouch. “She’s good for you, ya know that right?”

Starscream looked over at him, “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I don’t know what happened when you two were patched into each other, but it obviously had an effect on you, and it’s an improvement. The fact that you decided to save her in the first place shows that she had an impact even before then,” Rattrap observed.

“You sound like…” Starscream began, but quickly cut himself off, opting to divert the conversation. “Windblade’s an interesting bot sure, and she has a lot of _potential_ , but I don’t know what you were thinking trying to hand her leadership _now_. She doesn’t have the experience to face off against someone like Elita.”

“Yeah I had her pinned as a naïve do-gooder too at first, but I’m startin’ to think she might actually be a capable do-gooder instead. Maybe you rubbed off on her a bit too, boss,” Rattrap said with a grin.

A small smile formed on Starscream’s lips at the suggestion, “Perhaps.”

“You do know that you’ll have to force her out of the running for the election though, right?” Rattrap pointed out.

Starscream frowned, “What are you talking about?”

“C’mon boss, when the election was just you and Elita your chances were pretty good, but now that Windblade’s a candidate a lot of your voters are gonna go for her instead. Face facts, she’s _actually_ the shiny, diplomatic, charismatic hero you try and paint yourself as. Sure, a lot of ya followers are gonna stick with you cos you’re their Chosen One, or you’re a familiar face in a strange new era, but a lot of others are gonna be tempted by the fresh, new model. It’ll be enough to split the vote and give Elita the majority, you can bet on it,” Rattrap asserted with confidence.

After his experience in Windblade’s mind, Starscream had been given a clarity of purpose that he was now beginning to realise had come with a side effect of over-inflated confidence, because even after Windblade had announced her plan to run for office, he had been so sure that he’d win. Now however, listening to Rattrap’s argument, it was very clear that he had a point, “What are you suggesting exactly?”

Rattrap held up his hands, “Hey, I’m not sayin’ you should _kill_ her or anything…well, not unless you absolutely have to, but ya gotta do something to make sure Elita doesn’t take control of Cybertron. Like bribe her, or find some dirt to use against one of them, or whatever. You’re Starscream, you’ll work it out.”

Starscream pursed his lips, “I find it quite ironic that you’re imploring me to find some underhanded way to push my opponents out of the elections, when my decision to hold legitimate elections was what made you think I should continue to rule Cybertron in the first place.”

Ratrrap shrugged, “Yeah well, life’s funny like that.”


	3. Interlude Over Iacon

Brawl was the last person Windblade spoke to at her meet-and-greet at Maccadam’s, which was fortunate because he’d stolen her drink and she wasn’t prepared to order another. She was also overwhelmed by everything she’d taken on board from everyone she’d spoken to; for all the violence and chaos Cybertron harboured, it still held so much hope for so many. By running in the elections, she’d volunteered to have a burden of massive importance placed on her if she should win, and the full extent of that burden was only becoming clear to her now. At the same time however, she had also formed a clearer vision than ever of the path she wanted to take should she become leader, which in turn made her all the more anxious about the elections. The more she thought about her hypothetical leadership, the more she realised she wanted it to become a reality, which made the prospect of not winning all the more distressing. She couldn’t help but fantasise about all the good she could do and the people she could help if she only had the power to do so, and the thought of being denied was so incredibly frustrating.

A voice in her head said that she was being silly and narcissistic; if creating a utopia was as easy as simply having power, then every leader would have built one by now.  _Don’t be so sure_ , another voice whispered, as she considered the lessons the last few years had taught her. Not every ruler’s intentions were as pure as she had once been naively led to believe. Still, turning Cybertron into the utopia she’d imagined before she’d been hit with the truth would take a lot more than just being elected its leader, but it would be a good place to start nonetheless.

She left Maccadam’s and took to the skies, heading towards her apartment. On the way there however, she found herself taking a slight detour to what had once been one of the tallest buildings in Iacon, before more recent development projects had dwarfed it. She alighted on the top of the building and watched the dawn break, as she had back before everything became so much more complicated, when she used to spend the nights imagining that she was back on Caminus. She had been desperately homesick once, but now she couldn’t even call Caminus her home anymore. If she had known of her impending exile back then she would have been besides herself with grief, but now…well, it’s not that she didn’t  _care_ , but Caminus felt like her past, while Cybertron felt like her future. After talking to the other bots in Maccadam’s, especially other colonists, she felt a stronger identification with Cybertron than ever.

Caminus had been…stagnant, and as much as she’d tried to grow into the best version of herself in her time there, she’d felt that stagnation pressing down on her. Cybertron was chaotic and turbulent, but that meant it was full of potential for change; it was a place where bots like herself might have the chance to evolve into forms closer to the ideal they imagined for themselves, or to discover new ideals to strive towards. The Autobots and Decepticons had very nearly torn Cybertron apart in a war that had originally been fought to liberate its populous from the restrictions of a hegemony that reduced them to their function. It was time for Cybertron to become the world they’d once fought for. Watching the dawn illuminate Cybertron from her perch had once filled her with a sad, sinking feeling, but now it filled her with an overwhelming sense of responsibility, and equal parts excitement and trepidation.

Although she didn’t regret the actions that had caused it, her exile from Caminus had further compounded the loneliness and isolation she had felt on Cybertron. However, the support of those who had looked to her as their voice had made her realise that she wasn’t as alone as she had originally thought. She wondered what would happen if she won; would she still have that circle of friends, or would her new power isolate her once more? Her mission on Cybertron had already been so hard, and the more alone she felt the harder it became; how incredibly hard would it be to take on the full burden of leadership while also experiencing the isolation of ruling? She thought about the loneliness Starscream tried to hide, which no doubt contributed to his mental deterioration as he sought companionship in his own delusions. She wondered if it had also contributed to his decision to come to her rescue when Vigilem was slowly wearing down her mind; was the enmity and strained cooperation they shared the closest thing he had to real companionship?

But she wasn’t like Starscream – his loneliness stemmed from much more than just his position of power. Even if getting elected were to isolate her to some extent, she wouldn’t sink to his level of lonely bitterness and misanthropy. Yet that voice of doubt whispered in her mind once more, questioning whether she could really know that. The Autobots and Decepticons had begun their fight wanting much the same as what she wanted - to create a better Cybertron free from oppression, but the suffering they endured in the struggle towards their goal had corrupted them. She had looked into Starscream’s spark, and buried deep down beneath all the hatred, pain and paranoia she’d found that there was a desire not unlike her own. If Starscream had been in her position once, who was to say she wouldn’t end up in his?

She couldn’t allow that to happen; there had to be a way to strive towards a better world without becoming a terrible person in the process. If she knew where others had gone astray, perhaps she could figure out how to avoid making the same mistakes. If she did win, she couldn’t imagine that Starscream would be very willing to help her in that respect; any good faith developed between them would be rusted if Windblade took the power Starscream so treasured away from him. Then again, Starscream was nothing if not unpredictable; he’d surprised her many times. She remembered that she’d first been surprised to learn that, despite the Autobots being the final victors in their seemingly endless war, a former Decepticon had been the one to gain leadership of their ancient home world. She’d then been shocked to discover precisely how cruel, vicious, and self-serving said former Decepticon could be, but was surprised again at the revelation that he was nonetheless not the one who’d been trying to undermine her efforts to help Metroplex. She wouldn’t have thought that Starscream would save her life, yet he’d pulled her from Chela as the Titan had gone down. Windblade had bought into his explanation at the time, that he’d only done so for the sake of appearances, but when he’d then shocked her the most by appearing in her mind to help her against Vigilem, she was thrown into doubt.

After they had awakened from the patch, Starscream had said something characteristically infuriating and ridiculous and she’s been in no mood to indulge his nonsense. She’d helped Starscream see the truth within himself, but she’d had revelations of her own, and she was too keen to act on them to waste her time playing Starscream’s games with him. Shortly after she’d left with her new resolve, she’d decided to upgrade to a new frame; on Caminus frame upgrades were a rare luxury reserved for moments of great need or ceremony, but she realised that she no longer had to be restricted by how things were done on Caminus. After all the injuries she’d sustained in her time on Cybertron she’d decided to go for a bulkier, more heavily armoured frame, of a more Cybertronian style. So she had a new frame to go along with her new beginning; somehow it hadn’t occurred to her what a Starscream-y thing this was to do until the swap was complete.

She hadn’t asked Starscream why he’d rescued her this time around; she didn’t think she would get an honest answer out of him, not without a lot of effort anyway, and at the time she had other places to be. But it was a question that dwelled on her mind. Despite the fact that their psyches had been joined, and despite her having seen the truth that lay in his spark, Starscream somehow remained an enigma to her. She thought she’d had him figured out at one point; the consensus of those who’d known him over the aeons seemed conclusive - he was a petty, cruel, power-hungry narcissist who cared only for himself. But that evaluation had misled her; she’d assumed Starscream had been out to get her, when in reality he had just been led to make the same mistake about her. Still, his ongoing behaviour didn’t do much to dispel her earlier assessment of him, but when she became aware of his mental illness a sense of pity joined the feelings of fear, anger, resentment and frustration she held for him. He was petty and shallow enough to push others away for the sake of power and glory, but he wasn’t so empty that he didn’t suffer as a result of doing so.

Over the years they’d known each other their relationship had seemed to have remained much the same, as far as Windblade could tell. Well, there was of course a big change early on, after Chromia had planted the bomb and Windblade had found herself labouring in the shadow of Starscream’s blackmail as a result. Ever since then however, they had existed in a seemingly static state of hostility and incredibly difficult cooperation, with the two of them trying to work with and against each other simultaneously. Sure, there had been some points where they’d worked well together, or seemed to share some moment of understanding, or even a moment of amicability, and each time Windblade had seized onto the hope that things were starting to change between them, but overall, it had felt as though things just stayed the same. Things _must_ have changed however, because she couldn’t fathom Starscream taking the risk he had taken for her in the early days of their relationship – it was already hard enough to fathom that he had done it now.

In the time she’d known Starscream, she’d tried to show him courtesy, compassion and understanding, in the hopes that she’d temper his cruelty, paranoia and rage, but it had all seemed futile. But perhaps her efforts hadn’t been as ineffective as she’d thought; she hadn’t considered that any impact she might have been having on Starscream could have been hidden beneath his secretive nature. She had once thought that maybe what Cybertron really needed was a little compassion, and perhaps those acts of kindness she had tried to perform for Starscream had meant a lot to him, even though he refused to let her know it. So while their relationship seemed to go nowhere for her, maybe it had changed a lot for him.

She’d wanted him to be a better person for the sake of Cybertron, and to make things easier for herself, but she also wanted him to be better for his own sake. She clung to the idea that everyone was worth saving, and that everybody could be saved. It was a belief that was challenged more and more as she was faced with ever harder trials presented by increasingly vicious people, yet still she tried so hard to hold onto it. When Starscream had come to her rescue, and been violently stripped down to his spark for his troubles, she’d had the opportunity to see his truth, and finally be vindicated. Sometimes life could seem so cheap, and people so small and petty, but seeing into the depths of her enemy’s spark had reminded her how much wonder lay within each person, regardless of how they appeared on the surface, and how it was worth protecting and nurturing. She was even more grateful for that vindication than she was for him saving her life.

She entered her apartment, making a mental note to get in touch with a construction bot later as she passed her ruined wall. Laying down on her recharge slab, her final thoughts were of the hope that, whatever the outcome of the election, they would find a way to keep moving forward.


	4. Cruel To Be Kind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this fic were a doughnut you would have just bitten into the jam filling.

_Life’s funny like that_ , Rattrap had said, and wasn’t that just right? Life was cruel, fickle and complicated – a pitch black comedy with an absurdist flair – and in order to endure it one had to get in on the joke and laugh along, regardless of how much in bad taste that may be. Starscream was accustomed to being called a monster, so much so that he had embraced the label, but really wasn’t he just a survivor, doing what life demanded of him so that he could continue the game? And yet...when he’d had that fleeting vision of what he could only call _truth_ during his mind meld with Windblade, he had seen another way to be, something so much brighter. If the way he already conducted himself was truly the best way to survive, how could he have seen something better?

He’d had a brief glimpse through the chaos and confusion, where the convictions he had forgotten he’d ever even held all aligned to paint an image of who he wanted to be and what he wanted to do. Ultimately however, what he’d experienced remained with him only as a feeling, not as a descriptive set of instructions to tell him exactly what he should do and how he should be doing it. When he had been focusing on building a better Cybertron and arranging legitimate elections, he had felt like he’d been on the right track that the vision had laid out for him. And now the idea of lying and scheming again in order to win, that felt wrong, but the idea of doing nothing and allowing Elita to win felt equally abhorrent.

Starscream’s reverie in the skies above the streets of Iacon was interrupted by Bumblebee’s voice, “I’m really glad you dealt with Rattrap the way you did Starscream, but you can’t listen to what he said about the elections – you don’t want to regress back to your old ways when you’ve made so much progress.”

“So I should do what exactly? Let Elita take control of Cybertron and regress our entire species back to our old ways?” he answered irritably.

“You don’t _know_ that she’s going to win,” Bee insisted.

“Oh so if I can’t be completely certain of an outcome I should just blissfully assume everything will work out for the best – I can see why your stint as leader was such a resounding success Bumblebee,” Starscream retorted cruelly.

This provoked a note of anger to slip into Bumblebee’s voice, “While it’s of course completely reasonable to immediately resort to deception, betrayal and murder the moment things might not go your way,” he snapped back.

“Elita is no small threat,” Starscream responded, putting aside pettiness to adopt a more serious tone, “there’s a very real chance she’ll take power if all three of us run in the election, and if she does she’ll turn Cybertron back into a battleground. You saw Carcer – they turn their own people into furniture; do you really think they’re the sort to value the rights of the individual over the convenience of their function? No, if Elita wins she’ll throw away everything I’ve worked towards to convert the populous into a well-oiled machine of war. I know her type; nothing else matters to them but the war, so everything else can be sacrificed for its sake.”

“You and Windblade have a lot of supporters,” Bumblebee pointed out, his own anger subdued as he matched Starscream’s seriousness.

“We do, and that’s the problem,” Starscream told him, “if the people were clearly in favour of one of us we wouldn’t be having this issue, but now the types of voters that would vote for me are split between myself and Windblade, while the sorts of voters that favour a leader like Elita are all on her side. She already has her army of zealots backing her unquestioningly, and she’ll undoubtedly appeal to some Decepticons – maybe even some Autobots – who feel lost without the war. Then there are frightened colonists who are unaccustomed to threats like Maximo, who will rush into the arms of a strong figure who promises them protection at any cost.”

Starscream transformed into robot mode and alighted on the balcony of his apartment while he weighed up his options, “Eliminating Elita would of course be the best option, but she’s not the sort to respond to bribes, and the Carcerians guard their secrets too fiercely for me to find anything I could blackmail her with in time, and as much as I’d _love_ to just have her assassinated, she’s not going to go down easily. Even if I did manage to pull it off the Carcerians would almost certainly declare war in retaliation, regardless of whether they had evidence to pin her death on me. Now _Windblade_ on the other hand, she already has bots making attempts on her life, so it would be _so_ easy to surreptitiously supply the right zealot with the resources needed to get the job done.”

“ **Stop right there!** ” Bumblebee demanded furiously, outrage burning fiercely in his blue optics.

“ _I’m not actually suggesting to have her killed_ ,” Starscream responded defensively, “I’m _just saying_ it would be very easy to do so if it were on the table, but it’s not. There are other ways.”

Bumblebee glared at him, but gave no other response.

Starscream continued with his musings, “Blackmail has worked with her before, but I think I’ve over-played that card; she’s not as easily cowed as she once was,” he couldn’t help but let the corner of his mouth quirk upwards as he remembered how she had brazenly displayed her disrespect to the Mistress of Flame. “It’s a pity I released Chromia from prison – that’s the one bribe that may have worked on her.

“A large part of her appeal to the voters is her purity – she’s earnest and untainted by the crimes of war – but the thing about purity is that it’s one of the easiest things to ruin, not a reliable foundation to rest a reputation on at all. _Defamation_ , that’s the way to play this,” Starscream concluded with cold confidence.

Bumblebee shook his head, an expression of sad disgust on his face, “You’re going to go after her after everything’s she’s done to help you; all the times she’s saved your life; helped save your empire.”

“Do you think I _want_ to?!” Starscream shrieked in frustration. “Why is it so hard for you bots to understand that some things are just _necessary?_ A leader **has** to be cruel, because it’s often much kinder than the alternatives! And yes, ultimately this means being hated and alone, because there’s no one else who really understands what burdens you have to bear, but it’s still necessary! I thought _you_ might understand Bumblebee; you gave the order to kill Horri-Bull, and the people hated you more and more everyday with each hard choice you were backed into. Even your precious Optimus is hardly pure; he was the one who ordered the Autobots to toss half thawed MTOs onto battlefields to be blasted to slag by laser fire moments after being born. Why? Because you would have lost the war otherwise! Are you really willing to see Cybertron burn in the name of inflexible moral principles?”

Bumblebee was silent for a moment, his expression uncomfortable, almost distressed, before he said softly, “There has to be a line somewhere; there has to be some other choice beyond becoming a monster or dying a victim,” there was a note of what almost sounded like desperation in his voice, as though he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Starscream. “If we don’t draw that line, what separates us from the likes of Elita? You said yourself that she’ll sacrifice anything in the name of her goals, but aren’t you also saying that you have to do the same? If you’re going to justify any cruelty in the name of your intent, what makes you better than her? What makes you better than _Megatron?_ You told me how he would constantly promise that everything would change once the war was won, and that everything would be worth it, but the war just dragged on and on. You can say that the ends justify the means, but what if you never reach those ends, and you’re just committing atrocity after atrocity for a happy ending that never comes?”

“ _I’m not like Megatron!_ ” Starscream hissed, a little too fast and too defensively. He wanted to scoff and call Bumblebee naïve, but in his spark he knew that Bee’s point was as valid as his own. The war had truly been an almost endless parade of pain and savagery, justified in the name of the promised paradise they had been fighting for, but now that the end had finally come, here they were, still spreading suffering for the sake of some end goal. That was the thing about end goals, they were always in the future, so the present would always be filled with suffering and sacrifices made in their name.

Starscream's thoughts of Rattrap returned to him, and as he remembered his intent to ensnare the bot in an endless cycle of torture he found himself shuddering. Those twisted fantasies he had harboured filtered back into his mind, before the imaginings began to morph into actual memories, with the flinching and cowering form of Rattrap becoming his own image, while where he had loomed over the rat, Megatron now stood, sadistic intent gleaming in his optics. Starscream felt sick. Back in the beginning, being a Decepticon had felt like ushering in a glorious new age for Cybertron; Megatron had said all the right things – he’d wanted to give rise to a better world and he was willing to do what it would take to make it happen. Starscream had idolised him, but as the war had persisted, Megatron’s interest in bringing about a new golden age had taken a backseat to his interest in indulging in the gory depravity of the war, and the pedestal Starscream had held him on had crumbled. When Starscream had tried to wrest control of the Decepticons away from him to return them to their original path, he had found himself the target of Megatron’s sadistic attentions, and he’d become another attraction in Megatron’s carnival of horrors for the indulgence of his barbarous fancies. That’s what Megatron had really wanted in the end; he’d stopped caring about Cybertron a long time ago.

Starscream was hit by a realisation – the ends justified the means, except when they didn’t. It wasn’t Megatron’s willingness to do what was necessary that had made him a bad leader, it was the fact that his ultimate intent had been corrupted, and the same thing had been happening to Starscream. It wasn’t the lying and scheming that had led him astray from the path to his true self, it had been the fact that he’d started to forget what all the lying and scheming was for. Megatron has lost sight of his original motivations in a haze of sadism, vengefulness and lust for domination, while Starscream’s own focus had been clouded by so many doubts, fears, lies and bitter disappointments. He’d become so lost in his neurosis that he’d almost sabotaged the position of power he’d sought for eons in the name of recreating the sick familiarity of the relationship he knew best, to satisfy some warped compulsion his many traumas had planted within him.

When they were plugged into each other, Windblade had scythed through millions of years of neurosis to clear his mind and momentarily give him an unobscured vision of what ultimately mattered to him. Pure methods were a fairy-tale, and honestly so were completely pure intentions, but there were definitely some intentions that were better than others, and buried somewhere inside him, Starscream knew he had some of those better intentions. The notion of lying and scheming again to win the elections had felt wrong because at some point he had begun to lie and scheme to satisfy expectations – he had been assigned the role of the scheming monster and he had played along. He would have to cast off that role and remember that deception and manipulation weren’t what defined him, but rather they were tools he could artfully wield to achieve the ends that he knew justified the methodology.

“It’s about true intent,” he softly muttered his epiphany.

“What do you mean?” Bee asked him.

“I have to make sure my intent truly justifies what I need to do,” he responded, and he thought about what it was he really wanted. He wanted…many, _many_ things, but among those multitudinous yearnings was the deep desire to see Cybertron flourish in a true golden age; to have its citizens cast off old factions and labels and be free to become the people they ached to be in the depths of their sparks. Surely that justified a lot. “I want what’s best for this world Bee, I really do, but Elita’s priorities lie with getting vengeance on Liege Maximo, and she’ll let Cybertron burn if it means taking him down with her. She’s already almost let Cybertron fall; if this planet falls into her clutches she’ll tear down everything I’ve built up. Windblade wants to see Cybertron flourish, but as important as intent is, it’s not the only thing that matters.”

“Let me guess, it’s also a matter of being willing to do what needs to be done,” Bee’s tone was weary and sad, rather than sardonic.

“It’s about being willing, but also able,” Starscream replied. “A leader’s worth is measured by what they intend for the people they lead, how determined they are to see that vision realised, and how much power they have to see it through. Windblade and I both want what’s best for Cybertron, while Elita would sacrifice this world in the name of war and vengeance. Elita and I are both willing to do what it takes to see our goals realised – Windblade is very driven, but she’s still fettered by scruples unfit for a leader, and she’ll need time to grow out of them. As for power, well that comes in many forms – brute strength, scientific acumen, outlier abilities – but the best form of power is the power to manipulate people; because if you control people, you then control all the different kinds of power they possess.

“People essentially operate by two levers: fear and desire. Fear is easier to use because desire involves the expectation of delivery; eventually you need to satisfy a person’s desire, and once you have you’ve lost the power you have over them, until you can offer them something else. People controlled by fear instead do everything to ensure you won’t deliver on your threats; you only need to remain intimidating enough to keep their fear stoked, but you don’t need to live up to the full potential of the threat you seem to pose to them to keep them in line. People are often also easier to cow then they are to tempt, but that being said, I can attest better than most to desire’s ability to overpower fear. Most creatures, when starved of something they sorely desire for long enough, will wildly fling themselves into the path of danger if it might mean finally getting what they want.

“Elita controls people through fear; either fear of herself or by promising protection from some other bogeyman she whips up hysteria over. Windblade seduces people by appealing to their desires, and she’s so earnest that you believe that she’ll ultimately give you the satisfaction she’s promised. I use both fear and desire, because for millions of years my survival depended on my ability to manipulate others, and after billions of our people died and our species almost went extinct, I’m still here. I have the power, the will, and the right intentions; I’m the leader Cybertron needs Bee,” Starscream finished, tasting the strange flavour of earnest conviction on his tongue.

Bumblebee was silent for a few moments as he stared at Starscream, studying his face, before he finally said, “Whatever you do, make sure it’s truly the best option.”

***

After ordering his thoughts and coming to an understanding about his intent, Starscream felt a lot better about the scheming he would have to do, but still, a niggling feeling of wrongness continued to nag at him. But then, he figured some unpleasant feelings were inescapable, given who he would have to scheme against. He had come to… _appreciate_ Windblade, as much as she vexed him. While she had done a frustrating number of things to undermine him, at the end of the day she had done a lot more to help him, and it had been nice to have someone on his side for once, as reluctant as they may be.

Starscream considered his options for her defamation; if he was going to spread some lie about her, it would be much stronger if it was a lie that was tangled with truths. People would be much more suspicious of any rumours that suddenly sprung up around election time, so the rumours would have to be convincing enough to overpower that suspicion. It would be even better if he didn’t have to lie at all, because he uncovered some secret already dirty enough to sabotage Windblade’s electoral ambitions, but it wasn’t something he was going to rely on. Still, it would be nice. Either way, he’d have to start by digging into her past.

Starscream accessed the Camien intranet, and started to construct an algorithm to sort through their databases to find any records of juicy scandals that involved Windblade in any way, or any odd tidbits that might point towards more deeply hidden secrets. He ran the same algorithm against a random sample of Camiens of Windblade’s same approximate age, to get an idea of where Windblade ranked against the Camien average when it came to controversy. It turned out that Camiens were incorrigible gossips – understandable, given there was probably little else to do on their backwater world – so Starscream’s algorithm returned to him a hefty amount of data. He had been expecting to get something; for creatures as long lived as their species, it was inevitable that a lengthy backlog of shameful and embarrassing events would steadily build up over the course of everyone’s eons. The thing was, that applied to everyone who lived long enough, so if anyone brought up a past shame to use against someone, the same trick could almost certainly be turned back against them. As a result, societies full of ancient individuals tended to live in an implicit agreement not to dredge up each other’s old shames, the exception being if someone had done something exceptionally shameful compared to the society’s average.

In that sense, Windblade’s data wasn’t of much use. Her past was dotted with mistakes, humiliations and scandals – some vaguely interesting, a few quite funny – but none of them made her especially stand out against other Camiens. Discounting the recent scandal of her exile, she was ever so slightly above the Camien average when it came to her involvement in controversies, thanks to the seeds of rebelliousness and ambition in her nature that had only truly blossomed after she’d come to Cybertron, but that wasn’t enough to work with. This was especially true given the fact that, while Camien gossip was better documented than Cybertronian gossip, it was infinitely tamer. Compared to the average Cybertronian, the average Camien was as pure as the driven snow.

There was definitely nothing in the records of Windblade’s past that Starscream could use to truly defame her, no matter how much he twisted or exaggerated the facts. He didn’t even think there was anything he could use to construct an interesting rumour that would convince anyone with half a brain module of its authenticity. As for any hints at buried secrets in the data, his algorithm had pulled up some weak patterns that _might_ have potentially pointed towards some undocumented events, but he’d need more time than he had to follow such vague trails, and chances were they weren’t going to lead him anywhere. If he was going to find a way to defame Windblade, he’d need help. Help from someone who knew her well, and who didn’t want either Windblade or Elita to be victorious at the election. Such a bot came to mind.

***

The Mistress of Flame took a seat across from Starscream at his desk, and gazed at him with her usual expression of impassivity. Starscream poured a cube of expensive high-grade between them, “Can I interest you in a drink?” he offered.

“No thank you,” she replied. “I hope I’m here for more than just pleasantries; my time is precious.”

Starscream swirled the liquid around in the bottom of his cube as he said, “I feel as though we could both benefit from a discussion concerning certain things. Would it be crass of me to ask who you were planning to vote for in the election?”

“I’d say so, but I would think the answer is obvious anyway. Elita’s a warmongering megalomaniac, and I’m hardly going to vote for a bot whom I exiled, nor is any respectable Camien,” she told him.

Starscream took a sip of his drink before he gave a small smirk, “By respectable I take it you mean obedient. I’ve noticed that you have methods of maintaining a high level of ‘respectability’ among your people; Windblade, Chromia, Nautica, Firestar, Velocity, Javelin, Proxima – to name a few – were all problem children in one way or another, and all were sent away from home on holy crusades. I suppose that’s one way of dealing with an energy crisis. I have to ask, now that your young crusaders have actually found long lost Cybertron, are you concerned about the instability that will inevitably come with your world’s salvation from stagnation and isolation?”

She gave him a haughty look, “If you’re asking me if I think my people’s faith will waver in the light of new ideas, let it be known that no light is as bright as the burning truth of Primus. I trust my people not to stray from the Way of Flame. What’s more, Caminus isn’t isolationist; our energy crisis limited our ability to travel in recent millennia, but we once had a golden age of our own, marked by exploration and trade with other worlds, which included the exchange of ideas, and the Way of Flame flourished. I see the relationship between our worlds as an opportunity for a new golden age for Caminus, one I will ensure is built upon the _right principles_.”

_By which you mean religious devotion, of course_ , Starscream thought. Starscream hadn’t yet figured out whether The Mistress of Flame simply used her people’s religion as a tool to keep herself in power, or if she was actually as much a fanatic as she presented herself to be. She was politically astute and practical, but being those things and being a religious devotee weren’t necessarily mutually exclusive. Either way, he had the right card to play, “It’s always nice to have help in that regard. I imagine that building a new Camien golden age will be a lot easier with a supreme leader of Cybertron on your side, particularly one who’s chosen by the holy Titans themselves.”

The Mistress gave a small nod, “We are both the chosen servants of Primus, it makes sense that we should support one another.”

Starscream nodded in return, “I must confess – and that is part of your job isn’t it, taking confessions? – that I’m a bit concerned about the potential outcome of the coming election. If I had just been dealing with Elita I wouldn’t be so worried, but now that Windblade is in the mix I’m afraid that some of my voters may be distracted by the shiny new young thing suddenly on offer. I was wondering if you knew any ways that I might dull her sheen.”

The Mistress gave another small nod of understanding, before she was ponderously silent for about a minute, and then she said, “A prophecy has worked in your favour to help you secure power, but prophecies can also have the contrary effect. Are you at all familiar with prophecy of Liege Maximo’s Herald?”

Starscream shook his head, “I’m afraid you’ll have to enlighten me.”

“There is a prophecy telling of a Camien who will betray their people and become Liege Maximo’s herald upon his return. Some attribute it to Alchemist Prime, some to Vector Prime, and versions of the prophecy differ, but the most commonly accepted version among our theologians is as follows: _When the wanderer with two names stands upon Cybertron / And the web of fate is made perfect / The Great Betrayer shall wear a crown of rust / And the kin of the betrayed shall be his herald / And in the furnace of their spark the Watcher shall forge corruption / And love shall be reforged as agony / And their corrupt tongue shall bear chaos /_ _So the cords of the Deceiver’s web shall quiver /_ _Thus all will end as one_ ,” The Mistress of Flame perfectly recited the prophecy in a tone of such mystical gravitas that it even managed to make the deeply atheistic Starscream shiver in ever so slight spiritual awe. He could see how she’d managed to wield the power of religious influence so effectively for so long.

“So you’re saying we should paint Windblade as this Herald of Liege Maximo?” he asked.

“Who’s to say she’s not?” The Mistress replied. “She’s a Camien, and she interfaced with Vigilem, the Watcher, and I’m told that her stasis lock was due to Vigilem’s brain patterns infecting her brain module. Now she has announced the secret of Liege Maximo’s return to the people, and her words have created fear and chaos.”

“Hmmm, I’m not sure how the whole wanderer with two names thing fits in though. Then again...” said Starscream tapping his chin, “we did recently have that organic so-called ‘wizard’ invade Cybertron and cast off a human disguise to reveal his true identity, so he _did_ have two names, a fake one and a real one.” And the idea of Vigilem forging corruption in her spark did fit in with the way she ultimately disposed of him – not that Starscream actually believed any of this prophetical mumbo jumbo, but the fact remained that it might fit just well enough to convince the rubes. “Thank you Mistress, this has been quite educational. I’ll need some time to consider what you’ve told me.”

The Mistress of Flame stood up, “We can’t allow a Herald of Liege Maximo to take control of Cybertron. Windblade needs to be reminded of her place.”

As The Mistress towered over him at her impressive full height and spoke of reminding Windblade of her place, Starscream had an unpleasant sense of déjà vu. He remembered when The Mistress had towered over Windblade and struck her furiously across the face for voicing her opinion, and he recalled how the spectacle had felt all too uncomfortably familiar, “Well we certainly don’t want anyone getting ideas above their function do we?” he muttered bitterly.

The Mistress just gazed at him impassively for a moment, before she simply turned and left, her cape trailing after her.

Starscream gazed at the high-grade in his cube as he pondered whether what he had learned was of any real use to him. If The Mistress of Flame declared Windblade to be the Herald of Liege Maximo, the Camiens would just eat it up, and some of the more religiously inclined bots from the other colonies would probably follow suite. The problem was, he already had most of the religious zealots on his side. He was The Chosen One, after all, as declared by a holy Titan. The voters that were flocking over to Windblade were mostly the religious moderates and secular crowd, and they were the people he was going to need to win back over to his side. A vague religious prophecy wasn’t going to be of much use in that respect.

But what if he could frame the sort of things the prophecy was getting at in a way that appealed to the more rationally inclined? After all, Windblade’s brain module _had_ been infected with Vigilem’s brain waves, and as far as Starscream was aware a malicious Titan downloading itself into the mind of a regular bot was completely unprecedented; who really knew what kind of long-term affect it might have on the bot? If he could convincingly present the argument that Windblade was unfit to lead thanks to an infection by a malevolent Titan loyal to the evil Prime bent on wrecking vengeance upon them all, it could be quite an effective argument on the secular and religious alike.

However, the argument would be much, _much_ more convincing if it could come from someone who wasn’t her political rival; someone who had some kind of expertise in these sorts of matters. He was confident that Airachnid could fabricate some sort of medical documents to support such a claim, but having her present them would mean letting everyone know that he had a Eukarian serial killer in his employ, which was of course out of the question. He’d have to think of someone else who could present the information, like some sort of medic, or maybe a Cityspeaker, given they were experts on Titans. But who? And how would he convince them to do it?

An evil idea entered Starscream’s mind, and an evil smile spread across his lips to match it, before he downed the rest of his high-grade in one go.

***

Starscream had to confess that as much as he tried to build Iacon up into a resplendent and cosmopolitan metropolis renown across the star ways, in all honesty it was a bit of a mess. Crime was rampant, tensions were high, and they were under siege from enemies every other week, which meant that about half the city was rubble at all times. There weren’t any especially high-end areas of Iacon, as people were hesitant to invest too much Shanix in building up luxurious infrastructure that might get crushed under the foot of a rampaging Titan the following week. But still, there were certainly some parts of Iacon that were better than others. Lightbright and Sparkstalker lived in one of these better areas, though their apartment was somewhat small so that they could afford it. Their home was conveniently close to some of Starscream’s offices, so his presence in the area wasn’t unusual.

He rang the doorbell and Lightbright answered almost immediately, “Lord Starscream! Please come in!” she said, giving a quick little bow of respect. “I’m so sorry for the mess; if this meeting wasn’t at such short notice I would have cleaned more.”

Starscream entered the cosy apartment and found its surfaces cluttered with various kitschy little knick-knacks and souvenirs; crystalline idols of Solus Prime from Caminus, techno-organic houseplants from Eukaris, models of popular racers from Velocitron, little trickling oil-fountains from Devisun, and mini Matrix replicas ‘blessed by the living Prime’ that he had seen Swindle flogging to hapless colonists. It all made Starscream feel a bit claustrophobic, but he supposed that the apartment was like a crude microcosm of the multicultural melting point he was trying to create, so he didn’t hate it.

“Can I offer you any snacks or refreshments Lord Starscream?” Lightbright asked as she quickly snatched up a few errant cubes from the kitchen counter and placed them in the cleaning receptacle. She had an air of friendly nervousness about her.

Starscream waved his hand, “I’m fine thank you,” he replied as he took a seat on her couch. “Are you settling in on Cybertron well?”

“Oh yes!” she exclaimed, her nervousness washed away by her enthusiasm as she took a seat across from him. “It’s so exciting to be a part of the reunification of the colonies! Honestly barely anything ever happened on Caminus for so long; when I was much younger we still had regular visitors from other worlds, and a little space fleet of our own, and pilgrimages across the stars, but that all became too much of an expense. Getting off-world became a rare treat; we had our arts and sports to try and keep ourselves entertained, but you can only see so many different renditions of _The Tragedy of Solus_ before your start to want a change, and…if I’m _completely_ honest…” she leaned towards Starscream conspiratorially and whispered as though she was sharing her darkest secret, “I’m not _that_ into theatre.”

“Well I hope Cybertron hasn’t proven _too_ exciting by contrast,” Starscream replied.

“Oh, well some of the things that have happened have been very frightening, I’ll admit, but defending the planet from a hoard of possessed Titan husks and then infiltrating Carcer in disguise? Those were probably the most exciting things I’ve ever done in my life! I think I can live with a bit of danger if it means getting to be among the action. I’m so much happier here Lord Starscream,” she said with a broad, earnest smile, and a fresh feeling of guilt started to work its way into Starscream’s spark. It had been such a rare and almost alien thing for him to feel not so long ago, but now he didn’t like how familiar the sensation had started to become. “Now that I’m here in the middle of it all there are so many more places to go and things to do, _and people to meet…_ ” her expression turned dreamy.

“I heard that you and Sparkstalker are planning a Conjunx ceremony,” Starscream mentioned.

Lightbright lived up to her name as her optics sparkled and she seemed to radiate giddy joy, “Yes! We still don’t have an exact date set yet, but we want to do it within the next two years, and we want to do it on Cybertron. Sparkstalker said we should do it on Caminus because he thinks it’s prettier there, but I said that since we’re starting a new life together on Cybertron we should have the ceremony to celebrate our new start here as well. Plus on Cybertron we can join near Metroplex’s spark chamber; many Camiens join in the light of Caminus’s spark, but I’ll be the first ever Cityspeaker to be bonded to her Conjunx beneath the spark of Metroplex – what an _honour_ that will be! Also, Sparkstalker and I have decided to have a ceremony that mixes Decepticon and Camien traditions, and maybe adds in some little touches from the cultures of the other colonies, and I thought that joining beneath Metroplex’s spark would be a wonderful way of adapting a Camien tradition to a new Cybertronian way of life. Oh, I’m _so_ excited for it, and I’m _so_ happy to know I’ll be spending the rest of my forever with my beloved Sparkstalker. I feel like I’ve lived for thousands of years as a faintly glowing ember, and now that I’ve finally been united with the bot I was always destined for, I’m burning as bright as Solus’s Eternal Forge. I like to tell my beloved that the real reason his name is Sparkstalker is because, across the cold and endless void of space, he somehow found me, and stole my spark, to keep forever in his tender care.”

Starscream stared wordlessly at Lightbright for a few moments; he couldn’t remember if at any previous point in the vast eons of his existence he had been bombarded with such an overwhelming deluge of romantic mush. He felt as though he had just been hit by an aggressive DoS attack and he needed time to reboot his systems, “Er,” he said, “I, um...hear that Sparkstalker’s doing well in his job.”

“Yes he is!” replied Lightbright brightly. “He’s very good friends with many of the other bots on his team, and he says that he really feels as though he’s making a difference cleaning up the streets and turning Cybertron into a better place. He says that Ironhide is the best boss he’s had in a millennia, but he made me promise to never tell Ironhide he said that, so don’t tell Ironhide what I told you that he told me,” she said with a wink.

“Such an idyllic life the two of you have found together; it would be such a shame if anything were to upset your happiness,” Starscream sighed.

“Well, life will always have its challenges, but Sparkstalker and I will face them together and be stronger for it,” Lightbright said confidentially, before her expression wavered. “Um...did you have a _specific_ upsetting thing in mind?”

“How much has Sparkstalker told you about what he did during the war?” Starscream asked her.

“He talks about it sometimes, but a lot of it is upsetting, and we prefer to focus on the future,” Lightbright told him.

“Has he ever told anything about the Attack on Ataraxia?” Starscream questioned.

Lightbright shook her head, “You know better than I what an impossibly long war it was, Lord Starscream. There is so much about it that Sparkstalker hasn’t had the chance to tell me yet.”

“Understandable,” Starscream responded, “after all, mass slaughter became such a routine activity for us that any single atrocity from our pasts usually doesn’t seem particularly noteworthy, but there are certain things about the Attack on Ataraxia that Sparkstalker himself may not know, which give it a special significance.”

“What do you mean?” Lightbright asked, sounding deeply uncomfortable, and maybe a little bit frightened.

“The Attack on Ataraxia was a surprise Decepticon raid on the Autobot outpost Ataraxia, masterminded by your beloved Sparkstalker. There had been a lull in the war for a few decades at that point; some skirmishes here and there, but no major battles, and both sides had grown a little bit complacent. Sparkstalker had an idea to shake things up, one that he followed through on personally, and I won’t bore you with all the gory details, instead I’ll jump straight to the relevant point: among the many Autobots massacred was Ironhide’s Conjunx Endura. Sparkstalker probably doesn’t know, just as Ironhide doesn’t know that Sparkstalker was the one who both masterminded and carried out the attack. I know that he doesn’t realise that he has his Conjunx’s killer in his employ, because he hasn’t killed him yet, to satisfy the oath he made to do so centuries ago,” Starscream explained as he watched Lightbright’s expression grow increasingly distressed.

“That...that was during a war, and a long time ago,” she replied, her voice quaking a little. “Lots of people who now live together on Cybertron were enemies during the war, but have moved past it. I’m sure Ironhide could too.”

“Hmmm, I wouldn’t be so sure,” Starscream told her, “this was Ironhide’s _Conjunx Endura_ , after all. Can you imagine how you would feel about any bot who killed Sparkstalker? Now filter those feelings through the Cybertronian habit of resorting to murder as a solution for most problems, and then take into account the fact that Ironhide is an especially passionate Cybertron, and well, it paints a concerning picture. Even if Ironhide did manage to somehow contain his murderous passions, there’s no way Sparkstalker could keep his job, and honestly I doubt he’d be even be able to continue living in Iacon. The whole business would be quite disruptive and distressing to his team as well, which would interfere with their ability to keep the streets of Cybertron safe.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Lightbright whispered.

“I’m the only person left alive who knows this little secret, so you don’t need to worry about Ironhide getting wind of it...assuming you can do something for me,” Starscream replied.

“ _You’re blackmailing me?_ ” Lightbright cried in outrage and horror.

“I’m afraid so,” Starscream answered simply.

“ _Why?_ ” Lightbright wailed.

“I need you to give your expert opinion on a certain matter, or rather I need you to give a certain opinion on a matter as an expert. I’m going to send you a set of medical documents, and I then need you to go to the press and tell them that as a Cityspeaker, you can see that these documents show that Windblade is unfit to run for leadership of Cybertron because Carcer’s brain patterns have infected her, or something like that.” Starscream said, waving his hand vaguely.

“ _This is about winning the election?_ ” Lightbright squealed in outrage. “I knew you had a reputation, but I thought that after all you’d done to build up and protect Cybertron you had to be a good bot deep down, but I guess every horrible thing everyone’s said about you is true!”

“Life’s full of such disappointments, you’ll get used to it,” Starscream replied with grim honesty. “Your story will be that one of the medics who treated Windblade during her stasis lock came to you with neural readings, asking for you to use your Cityspeaker expertise to help interpret them. The medic didn’t tell you they were Windblade’s neural readings, but you quickly realised who they had to belong to. Say that you don’t want to reveal the identity of the medic, because they didn’t mean to breach doctor-patient confidentiality, but you can’t stay silent, because the idea of letting Windblade gain any position of power on Cybertron while her mind is corrupted by a servant of Liege Maximo is unconscionable.”

Starscream had briefly considered telling Lightbright to instead go to Windblade to try to convince her that her decision to run for office had been brought on by this supposed infection by Vigilem, so that she’d pull out of the election without him having to defame her, but he had quickly dismissed the idea. Windblade had as much, if not more, Cityspeaking expertise as Lightbright, so she’d quickly pick up on anything suspicious in the doctored records, and realise that this was just his attempt to get rid of her (Starscream figured that the other Cityspeakers wouldn’t be a problem in that regard; they would listen to the Mistress of Flame’s condemnation of Windblade as an unholy herald of the Great Betrayer without any further scrutiny of her medical records). Anyway, trying to corrupt Windblade’s sense of sanity seemed even crueller than trying to ruin her reputation.

The glow of Lightbright’s optics flared in distress as she buried her face in her hands, “Windblade’s a good bot, she saved us all, she’s a hero! She doesn’t deserve this... _but I’ll do it_. I’m _disgusted_ by myself, but I’ll do it if that’s what I have to do to protect my Sparkstalker.”

Starscream gave a nod of grim satisfaction, “Good,” he said, and rose from the couch to leave, but instead of making his way out he found himself lingering. There was a question that weighed on his mind that would in no way benefit his current scheme to ask, but he found himself opening his mouth nonetheless, “ _Why_ are you so willing to protect Sparkstalker anyway? You’ve known him for only – what? – three years? You said yourself that there’s countless of things about his history that you don’t know about. He’s a killer with a past soaked in energon, while you’re in one of the most respected and morally upstanding positions in your society. Why are you so dedicated to him? What do you get out of it?”

Lightbright looked up at him with big, blue optics and said, “I’m protecting him because I love him; because I lived with the same groups of bots for thousands of years and could never connect with any of them the way I immediately connected with this stranger who suddenly appeared in my life out of nowhere. I don’t need to know everything about Sparkstalker’s past, because what I care about is our future together. Before we met, neither of us really had the freedom to be who we were meant to be, but now that we’re together we can help each other become our best selves. It doesn’t matter who Sparkstalker used to be, because I can see who he is now that we’re together, and I’d do anything for him, not that I’d expect a selfish **monster** like you to understand.”

Starscream gazed at her wordlessly for a few moments, before he muttered, “No, I suppose not,” and left.

***

“Please don’t go through with this Starscream,” Bee pleaded as Starscream flew back to his office, “you’re going to ruin Windblade’s life. She’ll become a pariah, and even more religious radicals will start attacking her, thinking they’re saving Cybertron from some kind of _demon_. She could very well be murdered!”

“I can put measures in place to keep her protected!” Starscream insisted as he transformed and alighted on the balcony of his office. “I can assign agents to shadow her and make sure she’s safe, and I can offer her help in other ways too, so she’ll be able to recover from this setback in time.”

“Do you seriously think she’s going to run into the open arms of the bot who tore her down so viciously? She won’t accept any help you offer her, we both know she’s not like that. She’ll become your enemy more so than ever before, and _...Primus_ , if she’s opposed to the Chosen One, that will feed into the public’s perception of her as an unholy herald even more,” Bee sighed miserably. “I hate this Starscream.”

“I know,” Starscream replied, gazing out over his city with a grave expression, “so do I. But what other choice do I have?”


	5. Don't Lose Your Way

Windblade was stressing out over the latter half of her debate speech when she heard the doorbell chime. She had her opening statement figured out, but the nitty gritty details she’d have to go into later in the night were proving trickier to suss out. Ultimately it boiled down to the fact that Starscream and Elita had much more experience when it came to running a society than she did. Sure, she had some leadership experience on a smaller scale, and she was extensively knowledgeable in regards to the technicalities of keeping a Titan in good health, but she just didn’t have the same practical experience of leading and running something as complex as a whole society. She could just imagine Starscream and Elita ganging up on her and tearing her to bits if she accidentally revealed a sliver of ignorance over some esoteric aspect of governing during the debate.

It didn’t help that she had way less time to plot out her prospective leadership compared to her rivals; she had no doubt that Starscream already had detailed plans for Cybertron laid out centuries in advance, and he had far more knowledge of what resources were available to practically implement them. Meanwhile, Elita could mobilise every mind aboard Carcer to devise a strategy to most efficiently transform Cybertron into a total war society dedicated to the destruction of Liege Maximo. Windblade on the other hand had been a last-minute addition to the ballot who had to now quickly convert her principles and dreams of a better Cybertron into policies and plans for practical action. She didn’t want to come across as though there was no substance beneath her idealistic words; she’d hate for the “Wind” in her name to come to stand for “hot air”.

When she heard the chime she was half relieved to have an excuse to give herself a break and half annoyed that she was being interrupted from something she really needed to get done. She brought up a view on her console of who was waiting on her doorstep, and found Starscream staring at her door with a determined expression on his face and an agitated little twitch of his wings. Windblade’s spark gave an anxious pulse at the sight of him; the last time they’d spoken had been shortly after her abrupt expulsion from The Council of Worlds, when they’d gone over the official paperwork of her resignation (or firing, depending on who you asked). His attitude at the time had seemed...subtly amused; he’d made a remark about how refreshingly novel it had been to see the usually composed Mistress of Flame falling over herself to chase Windblade down the corridor in a panic, as though the whole spectacle had been a funny bit of cabaret to him. Still, she had wondered at the time whether his comment about The Mistress looking like a fool had been his unsentimental way of expressing some kind of solidarity with her.  

So she hadn’t spoken to him since she’d put her name on the electoral roll, and it hadn’t been a conversation she’d been looking forward to. She didn’t look forward to conversations with Starscream as a general rule, but this was a confrontation she was anticipating to be especially uncomfortable. The patch had changed things between them, regardless of whether Starscream chose to acknowledge the fact. When his true self had emerged, she hadn’t just seen a physical change in him, she had felt a deeper transformation that had reverberated around the foreign mindscape in which she was an intimate interloper.  

In the surreal, dream-like realm of the psyche, abstract thoughts and feelings twisted and merged with action and imagery so that every experience was a lived metaphor with many layers. Seeing Starscream’s true form had also been the experience of briefly _knowing_ and _feeling_ who he really was, or perhaps, who he could be. It wasn’t the kind of knowledge of another person that could easily be translated into a set of descriptive traits, rather it was an intimate sense of familiarity not unlike the feeling that accompanied seeing one’s oldest and dearest Amica Endura. There was both the sense of certain knowledge of who that person truly was, and the overwhelming sense of value and affinity that came with that knowledge. Windblade believed that every spark shone with the brilliance of life’s inherent worth, but when she had helped Starscream find a form that truly represented his inner truth, it was like his spark had been encased in a prism that amplified that brilliance until it almost blinded. A feeling of life’s profound worth and its myriad glorious possibilities washed over her in a euphoric peak experience, filling her with a sense of meaning that made defeating Vigilem effortless.  

Beyond this sense of universal life-affirmation that came with being privy to another’s momentary self-actualisation, there had been a more personal sense of connection and recognition she had felt in Starscream’s mind (if it was even possible to experience anything more personal than a shared moment of absolute truth). Maybe it was simply Windblade’s own unrealised potential resonating with Starscream’s when she saw all that he could be made manifest as his true self – the same sort of sublime potential that existed in all bots. And yet, Windblade felt as though she had seen something more unique to herself reflected back to her in the strange mirror of Starscream’s psyche. A burning kindred desire to change both themselves and the universe around them. Windblade supposed that such a desire must exist in all bots to some extent, but she’d known so many people on Caminus who had been more or less happy to languish in the status quo, and even before she’d exposed the truth of Starscream’s spark, she’d felt this desperate, frustrated yearning howling around his bleak mindscape. When she had helped him see his truth, she had seen that desire burning so brilliantly that she thought it might even outshine the fierce desire within herself that had driven her so many lightyears from her home and into exile.

When they’d emerged from the patch and Starscream had claimed that the experience didn’t change anything, Windblade had been so flabbergasted by the fact he could throw up his barriers and go into denial so quickly after experiencing something so profound, that it had returned some of the alienation she felt towards him. Still, no matter how hard Starscream pretended things hadn’t changed between them, it didn’t change the fact that they fundamentally had; Windblade had an intimate understanding of him now that created... _some_ kind of bond between them, though she didn’t know what to call it or how to express it. Knowing that strange bond was there and then signing up as his rival in the elections felt almost like a betrayal...

 _No._ She had no loyalty to Starscream beyond that which came with her position on The Council, which she no longer had; any further allegiance to him had been bought with blackmail, which he no longer had. Whatever strange emotional bond existed between them now had come with no pledges of allegiance, and if Starscream wanted to develop their bond into something that involved such loyalty it was up to him to make the effort, instead of just using her to look good in front of the press. She had seen the potential that existed within him to be a good person and a great leader, but he’d also reminded her of how much slag was heaped on top of that potential. She didn’t want to be Starscream’s enemy, but she wouldn’t hold back herself, or the betterment of Cybertron, to indulge him and wait for him to get it together.

Windblade gazed at him through her viewscreen and considered pretending she wasn’t home, but no, that was just juvenile procrastination, and knowing Starscream he would figure out where she was and then figure out a way to get in, one way or another. She might as well bite the bullet and get this encounter over and done with now, as quickly as possible. She walked to her door and let it slide open, “Hi,” she said simply, and immediately found herself feeling even more awkward.

Starscream gave her a curt nod, “ _Former_ delegate Windblade,” he said in cold greeting.

Windblade’s first impulse was to respond with ‘ _Current_ High Chancellor Starscream’, and in most other circumstances she would have gone for it, but she wanted to get this whole affair over and done with as quickly and cleanly as possible, and getting snarky with him wasn’t going to achieve that. So instead she said, “Can I help you Lord Starscream?”

“You can start by letting me in,” he replied in the same cold manner.

Windblade hesitated for a moment before she stepped out of the way, “Of course,” she replied.

Starscream stepped inside and took a moment to survey the room – he'd never actually been in her apartment before – and then spoke without turning to look at her, “I have to ask Windblade, did you take any time to think about what exactly you were doing before you decided to hand Elita my world on a platter?”

Windblade gave a puzzled frown; this wasn’t how she had expected this encounter to go, “I suppose I didn’t, given that I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Starscream replied with an exasperated sigh and turned to face her, “So it never occurred to you that by putting yourself on the electoral ballot you’d be splitting the voters who are interesting in seeing Cybertron actually progress between us, leaving Elita to soak up the regressive warmongers and frightened rubes who will give her victory at the elections?”

Windblade was silent for a moment as she thought about this; she had already figured the sort of voters Elita would attract, while talking with her prospective supporters throughout her campaign had given her a pretty good idea of the types of people who were backing her. As far as she could tell, the followers Starscream attracted were a lot of the deeply devout who saw him as the Chosen One, and bots who wanted progress, but were also somewhat scared of change. Starscream was a familiar face who promised to advance Cybertron, but whose paranoia and cynicism caused said advancement to occur at a halting pace, which suited these bots torn between a desire for and fear of change just fine. It was true that the bots who wanted peace and more rapid progress that had been flocking to her would almost certainly have voted for Starscream if he and Elita were the only options, but that didn’t necessarily mean the pool of voters shared between them was so small that Elita would most definitely win. Then again, now that she currently wasn’t a member of the government Windblade didn’t have access to all the detailed census data that Starscream did, and she didn’t have the same sort of resources at her disposal that Starscream and Elita had to conduct thorough surveys. Maybe Starscream was right and she was handing Cybertron to Elita.

...or maybe Starscream was just lying about the statistics to convince her to drop out of the elections. This was _Starscream_ after all; that was _absolutely_ the kind of thing he would do. Actually, by Starscream’s standards he probably considered it a highly clement way of getting rid his rival; in his campaign of underhanded scheming to ensure his victory at the elections, he was giving her the soft treatment. Well, receiving his small mercies wasn’t going to be enough to convince her to just give up and let him keep the planet, “I spoke to many, many people who want me to be Cybertron’s leader Starscream; people who have hinged their hopes on me. I can’t pull out of the elections now and let them down.”

“You’ll do more than let them down if you let Elita win!” Starscream screeched, throwing his hands up in frustration. “You're certain you’ll be victorious because you’re riding a confidence high after defeating Vigilem; I know because I was on the same high, which is why I let you take this disaster waiting to happen as far as you have! But you need to stand back as I did, look at the facts objectively and see that if you don’t drop out of the elections Elita will win!”

The more she had come to know Starscream over the years, the more she’d come to realise how much of his behaviour stemmed from deep-seated disillusionment and distrust, and over the same years she’d felt her own inclination towards cynicism and wariness grow. As a result, she had taken to calling the increasingly pestering voice of pessimism in her head her ‘Inner Starscream’. Maybe Starscream really did believe to some extent that if she refused to back out of the elections Elita would win, but she couldn’t let the voices of pessimism, be they internal or external, stop her from trying to lead Cybertron into a better future, “If you’re so convinced that Elita will win if we both run in the elections, why don’t _you_ withdraw? You have a reputation for dirty dealings Starscream; if I drop out of the elections many of my followers will be convinced you blackmailed me into it, and might even vote against you out of spite. If you’ve really changed and this is really about the good of Cybertron and not just keeping yourself in power, why don’t you do something to prove it?”

“ _Prove it?_ ” Starscream squawked indignantly. He balled his fists in frustration and outrage so hard that Windblade heard the metal creak. “I’ve come to you with the opportunity to back out of this unscathed, haven’t I? But you’re so irrationally, _infuriatingly_ stubborn! If you don’t take this chance to drop out now I’ll have to...to...” Starscream trembled a little as his face contorted with distress, and Windblade wondered what exactly he was going to say. Was he going to threaten to have her killed? It wasn’t as though he hadn’t threatened to kill her before, in fact he’d outright made the attempt, but things had been so different back then. Surely after the lengths he'd gone to in order to save her life, he wouldn’t really have her killed, even if he was still going to make the threat. Then again, the intensely unsettled way Starscream was staring at her was making her feel very uneasy; she didn’t have a lot of faith in his stability, and part of her was worried that he might finally snap and attack her. Windblade was a very skilled fighter by Camien standards, but she wouldn’t be able to stand against a four-million-year-old Cybertronian war veteran for very long. She made a wary half-step towards her door; she wouldn’t be able to out-fly Starscream either, but hopefully if they were out in the open he would come to his senses and realise how bad it would look to attack her in public. But then, Starscream’s demeanour suddenly and completely changed, like he was struck by a realisation that made all the difference, “...I’ll have to make you an offer,” he said, as a manic energy burned in his optics, but it wasn’t like the intense distress of the moment before – quite the opposite in fact, “join my campaign as my Vice-Chancellor; together our victory over Elita will be assured.”

 _Windblade_ _hadn’t been expecting that._ After the momentary shock passed, she realised that she was _very tempted_ to take Starscream up on his unanticipated offer. She had felt as though she’d had a reasonable chance at winning the election by herself, but she certainly hadn’t felt as though her victory was in the bag, and Starscream was right – if they ran together instead of against each other they’d almost definitely win. An exchange of a bit less power for an almost assured victory seemed like a pretty good trade, but then she considered who was offering the deal. How much power would this Vice-Chancellor position grant her? Would she be able to make all the changes she’d dreamed of? Would she be able give the people she’d spoken to the things they wanted and needed? What if what Starscream was offering her turned out to be more of a figurehead position in practice, and she found herself stuck as his political puppet? Windblade chewed her bottom lip in deliberation for a moment before she said, “I have an offer of my own: join my campaign, and I’ll share my power with you equally as a co-ruler.”

Starscream stared at her blankly for a moment, before he let out a squawk of laughter, “Oh _come on_ ,” he said, “you’re just displaying your _embarrassing_ naivety is you seriously think that's going to work.”

“I’m the one making the more generous offer here,” Windblade pointed out, “we’re both in the same position according to you – we'll both loose to Elita unless we do something. You’re offering a subordinate position, but I’m offering an equal share of my power; if we both stand to lose to the same degree, my offer is fairer. Also, let's face it; you can trust me to live up to my promise more than I can trust you to live up to yours.”

“Co-rulership isn’t a stable or efficient form of government!” Starscream countered exasperatedly. “What if there’s an attack that requires immediate orders to be given? Cybertron would be burned to slag around us as we argued over what to do about it!”

 _Ok, time to make a concession_ , Windblade thought, “Alright, you have _much_ more military experience than I do. When it comes to those kinds of emergencies that need decisive decisions, you can have the overriding authority. But when it comes to other matters of governing that can afford more deliberation, I have equal say. If we really can’t come to an agreement over something, we can put it to a Council vote, or in some cases maybe a referendum.”

“You know, I’d admire your nerve if I didn’t think you were insane,” Starscream responded, gritting his teeth. “If you honestly think I’ll just hand you an equal share of my power you must be-” Starscream’s head twitched slightly as his focus suddenly shifted to an empty space at Windblade’s side, “ _shush._ _No_ _it’s not. Oh I bet you would_ ,” he started to mumble, before his optics flitted briefly back to Windblade and away again as he raised his hand to the side of his head in a weak attempt to make it look like he was taking a call, and Windblade felt a sad sense of pity overcome her. When she’d entered Starscream’s mind and seen its ravaged state she had initially thought that it had been due to Vigilem’s invasion, but then she’d realised that even with Starscream’s comparative lack of mental defences and the strange ways time worked in the mindscape, there was no way Vigilem could have caused that much damage that quickly. The bleak decay and desolation that she’d seen in Starscream’s mind was more or less just how he usually was, and that was such a depressing thing to know. Watching Starscream descend into a verbal argument with himself was a reminder of what a miserable state he was in, but it also made Windblade all the more convinced that he couldn’t remain the most powerful bot on the planet while he was so unwell. “ _I don’t want to, ok? After all this time I’m not going to just- that's not- can you just- **oh for**_ ** _frag’s_** ** _sake fine! I’ll take the stupid offer!_** ” Starscream suddenly screeched, before his eyes immediately widened in panic and he turned back to look at Windblade looking back at him with her own expression of shock, “I-I mean...” he started to stutter, trying to back out of what had sounded awfully like an agreement to run in the election with her as an equal partner.  

“ _Why did you save me_ _Starscream_ _?_ ” Windblade asked quickly and suddenly, partly to interrupt his attempts to backtrack, but also partly because she figured that if she’d got this far with Starscream she might as well go all in.

“What?” Starscream replied, radiating the same panic. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“It’s got everything to do with our relationship,” Windblade told him, “I thought you hated me and wanted me gone, but then you risked everything to save my life, and I want to know _why_.”

“I never _hated_ you,” Starscream retorted, shocking Windblade for the second time in the last thirty seconds. He’d said it like it was something that had just slipped out in a moment of emotional disarray, and he quickly shut his mouth and diverted his gaze as soon as it had left him. They were both silent for a moment as Windblade watched Starscream appear to struggle with his thoughts, before he spoke again, in a more measured, reflective tone, “I know what **real** hatred feels like, and what I felt for you didn’t even come close. I found you _incredibly annoying_ , and I thought about how I could get rid of you plenty of times, but I also found you useful and...interesting. I thought you had potential, but that your heroic nonsense would get you killed before it had the chance to be realised. But...I would have also died multiple times if you hadn’t saved me. I suppose, your heroic nonsense saved me, so it seemed...appropriate to save you from your heroic nonsense. And because...” Starscream looked extremely uncomfortable with his own seeming sincerity, and he struggled to meet her gaze, but he continued anyway, “...because I think we can help each other be better. Together, we can find better ways of doing things – we're...” an odd look of exasperation passed over his face, like he’d come to an extremely irritating realisation, “we’re... _ugh_...we’re – _I can’t believe I’m saying this_ – **_we're stronger together than apart_** _,_ ” he finally spat out with a strange mix of earnestness and cringing.  

Windblade stared at him as though memorised, before she put her hand over her spark and spoke, “So you _will_ partner with me as an equal in the election?”

Starscream gave a sigh that sounded both defeated and relieved, “ _I guess so_.”

Without even thinking about it Windblade grabbed one of his hands in both of her own and held it between them, “ _So what are we waiting for?_ ” she asked, her optics sparkling with joyful excitement.

Starscream's optics widened in surprise as he glanced down at their hands, and then up at her face with apprehension written across his features. But then that apprehension melted away into an expression of joyous determination, and Windblade felt the hand she held close around her own as he replied “Well then, let's get to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [yee.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vyGFM5CGnoo)
> 
> BTW, if you’re disappointed that nothing seemed to come of the plots established in the last chapter don’t worry, a lot of that stuff will come up again down the track, you’ll just have to wait to find out how


	6. The Chosen Two

Rattrap put his feet up on his desk as he used the point of the little umbrella in his triple-distilled Eukarian Engex Sunrise Surprise to stab at the grub that swam around in the liquid, before he brought the squirming little creature up to his mouth to bite it in half. Rattrap was almost five million years old, and in that time he’d travelled to many worlds throughout the galaxy, and found that one thing that seemed to be consistent across most of them was little umbrellas in fancy drinks. It was weird. By contrast, the only two worlds he’s encountered that put bugs in their drinks were Eukaris and Earth, which was a shame, because it turned out that he was very much on board with the idea, especially if they were bugs that had mutated to live in and off of energon. He put the tip of the umbrella into his mouth to strip it of what remained of the grub, and chewed on it cheerfully, causing energon-infused goo to spill out of its squishy little body.

Being the Adjunct Ceremonial Ambassador and Tertiary Interlocutor to Eukaris sure had its perks (and a much heftier pay check than the title might suggest). For a start, he had a secretary to do all his paperwork for him, not that he had much paperwork to begin with; officially, his job mainly just involved schmoozing with the various figures of interest on Eukaris as a representative on behalf of Starscream. In practice however, it also tended to involve getting into places he _technically_ wasn’t barred from, and overhearing things that, strictly speaking, were within his rights to hear. And should some of what he heard get back to say, Starscream, or other parties interested in making certain official _ish_ arrangements, well, Rattrap couldn’t help but be a bit of a gossip. Both the schmoozing and the wandering into places unnoticed didn’t take up too much of Rattrap’s time, so in blissful contrast to his last job, he now was able to fit in a lot of relaxation.  

Right now, he was relaxing by watching livestreams on his telescreen, and the election results for the leadership of Cybertron and the Council of Worlds were on. They hadn’t finished counting the votes, but it was already clear that the joint ticket of Starscream and Windblade had beaten Elita by a comfortable margin. The broadcast kept switching between Circuit excitably interrogating flustered political commentators as the results trickled in, and footage of the two mobs of supporters, gathered at their respective camps, watching said results get continuously updated on massive screens visible to all assembled. The footage of Elita’s supporters had grown increasingly subdued and sombre as the night went on, with occasional outbursts of anger from individuals in the crowd, who would suddenly break the silence with angry displays such as smashing bottles with shouts of frustration and disappointment. By contrast, Starscream and Windblade’s gang had been growing increasing excitable and jubilant, until their assembly had transformed into a rambunctious party, which got especially turnt when Starscream and Windblade themselves showed up.  

An ecstatic roar went up from the crowd of followers when their two leaders appeared on the scene, with hundreds of hands reaching towards them in eagerness as the two jets started mingling amongst their supporters, shaking those hands and thanking them while trying to dodge the more enthusiastically grabby bots. While Starscream and Windblade remained professionally composed compared to their joyously rowdy followers, it was clear from their wide smiles, bouncy movements and perky wings that they were just as engrossed in the ecstatic carnival atmosphere as the rest of the crowd. In the moments in between their interactions with their followers, the two of them exchanged glances of shared excitement and joy that appeared remarkably genuine, and Rattrap couldn’t help but read an affectionate warmth into the way they looked at each other. This didn’t look like a strained arrangement made out of threats and desperation, this looked like two people willingly working together to get what they both wanted, and being delighted with the results, and with each other.

Rattrap raised his drink up towards the screen in a toast, “Nice move boss,” he said with a grin.

***

Obsidian’s face wasn’t particularly expressive to begin with, but it remained especially impassive as he stood next to Elita, who sat in the seat of power on Carcer, but not on Cybertron. Usually, The First was as emotionally composed as Obsidian was, but within the last few months, cracks in her control had started to show. It had started with Windblade and Starscream’s raid on Carcer, and then ever since Liege Maximo had escaped, Obsidian had been watching his leader’s equanimity steadily come apart. Now that Windblade and Starscream had once again outmanoeuvred her, the atmosphere in the central chamber was thick with tension as Elita seethed in a manner that would be almost too subtle for most outsiders to pick up on, but which was all too obvious to Obsidian.

Elita had been the only First to ever allow Liege Maximo to truly escape, and every Carcerian was hyper-aware of this fact, even if none of them dared to say it aloud. Even before that failure, the manner in which Elita had come to power had been highly controversial, and although the most proactive voices of dissatisfaction with her leadership had been swiftly silenced, the shadow of possible dissent had hung over her ever since she’d taken power. Now, on top of that, she’d not only allowed Liege Maximo’s escape, but she’d also failed to take control of Cybertron. Carcerian culture made them very adverse to disobedience as a people, and the most insurgent among them had been eliminated millions of years ago, an event vividly remembered by those that had been alive to witness it, but these considerations didn’t mean that Elita was untouchable.

The role of the Second aboard Carcer was complex – on one hand, the Second was expected to be loyal and obedient to the First to ensure that order was maintained, but on the other hand, for all Carcerians, loyalty The Oath was meant to supersede all other duties. It was the Second’s responsibility to judge if loyalty to The First had come into conflict with loyalty to The Oath, and if so, do something to correct it. Obsidian was very well respected onboard Carcer, and not just because of his place in the hierarchy; Elita was the only one to ever dare say that there were some Carcerians who would probably prefer Obsidian to be First, and Obsidian had to agree with her, as it was likely true.

Things were more uncertain than ever before for their people; for million years they had been jailers, but now their prisoner had escaped, and they had never had to face him outside his cell. Carcerians were accustomed to a strict order in which their role was perfectly clear to them, but now their status quo had been thrown into disarray, prompting them to question things they had once left unquestioned. Furthermore, they were all accustomed to isolation, but now for the first time in a long time they were interacting closely with foreign people and cultures, and being exposed to foreign ideas and ways of existing as a result. If there was ever a time where the deeply ingrained obedience of the Carcerians was ready to crack, it would be a time like this.  

If there was to be a coup, it was Obsidian’s job to ensure it was quick, clean and orderly. Still, he didn’t want to act prematurely; disruption could foster revolutionary sentiments, but precisely _because_ so much was now in chaos, it was important to keep as many familiar things as constant as possible, and Elita’s supremacy had been a major constant for a long time. What’s more, their main priority now absolutely had to be the recapture of Liege Maximo; they couldn’t allow themselves to be distracted by power struggles – unless the current command structure was impeding their efforts to deal with Maximo. In that respect, Obsidian would have to wait and watch the decisions Elita made over the coming period, and determine whether she was fit to lead them through this strife.

“It was another lie,” Elita muttered darkly. “Windblade’s misplaced loyalty to Starscream was evident from the start, but he hid the regard he held for her behind a mask of contempt, until he was ready to use it against us. They’re more dangerous together than as individuals, but now that Starscream’s deception is revealed, their weaknesses are much clearer. We’ll move on to our reserve strategy, but incorporating what we now know.”

***

Thundercracker had been too wrapped up in the movie Starscream had commissioned him to create to pay much attention to the election campaign, and election night was no different. He was completely focused on his script, which was _torturing_ him. The first part was absolutely _golden_ , perhaps some of his best work yet, but the latter part, set after Starscream left the Cons? _A complete train wreck_. Thundercracker had known Starscream when he was a Decepticon, and he’d understood what he’d been all about back then; he knew what had driven him, and how to translate that into a compelling drama. Now Starscream had kinda got what he’d always wanted (sans Megatron’s love and approval/head on a spike), and Thundercracker wasn’t really sure where to take it from here. He knew Starscream well enough to know that, despite achieving his goals, he most likely still wasn’t happy or satisfied, but Thundercracker didn’t know how to turn that into a direction for this act of the script. He wanted it to be _real_ , of that much he was certain, but he couldn’t build up to the epic, exciting, emotionally satisfying ending he also really wanted, with nothing to work with other than Starscream’s dissatisfied meandering through his leadership.

With a growl of frustration, Thundercracker highlighted everything he had written in the last hour and deleted it. Starscream had often been hard to live and work with (increasingly so as the millennia had gone on), and writing was a harsh mistress; put the two of them together and Thundercracker was in _agony_. He just wasn’t getting anywhere, so he decided to take a break and turn to the second biggest comfort in his life after Buster: TV. He switched on the screen and the first thing he saw was Starscream and Windblade standing together amongst the celebrations of their jubilant followers, both looking triumphant, and Starscream looking genuinely happier than Thundercracker could remember seeing him in centuries. Thundercracker scrambled back over to his word processor and deleted the entirety of the latter half of his script, before he started smashing out new words, inspiration propelling his fingers to near supersonic speeds.  

***

The Mistress of Flame had attended election night as a matter of ceremony, but she wasn’t present at the celebrations when it became clear who the victor was. She knew she wasn’t going to be happy with the outcome either way, the result only determined the exact nature of her unhappiness. Starscream and Windblade’s victory meant that she felt angry more than anything. Windblade coming to power after the Mistress had exiled her for blasphemy was a disaster, and Starscream being the reason for her rise to leadership would almost feel like a betrayal if the Mistress were more sentimental. She had hoped that her working relationship with Starscream would be beneficial for both of them; despite what he claimed in view of the public, she could tell that he wasn’t a believer, but he was a pragmatist, and as a fellow pragmatist the Mistress could have made a useful ally of him. Anyway, once his destiny became clearer to him, the Mistress would have been able to guide him by the Way of Flame into the light of faith.

However, Starscream had elected to follow a different guide, one that would no doubt lead him, and their species, into ruin. The Mistress of Flame would not allow it; after all she had done to bring stability to Caminus, after all of her struggles and suffering and sacrifice, she would not stand to see it ruined by a mouthy little upstart and an atheist outsider. If Starscream refused to see the light, the Mistress would simply have to find other allies in her crusade to see the will of Solus and Primus realised. Fortunately, she’d been blessed with literally the perfect ally, and soon things would be put back in their proper places.

***

Blast Off felt like he was the only one not having a good time at the victory celebrations. He was there as part of the security detail, not to party, but that fact didn’t stop his fellow Combaticons (Vortex in particular had abandoned his post to go crowd surfing). But then, Blast Off was the only one there who knew the truth; he was the only one who knew it was all fake. All the happiness around him was based on a lie, or downright artificial; the only real happiness was Starscream’s, if his smug satisfaction at having them all under his heel thruster could be called happiness. Blast Off looked over at the beaming Windblade and wondered if Starscream had simply manipulated her into joining him, or if he outright brainwashed her as well. Probably the latter; her smile looked too sincere to be forced, and Starscream certainly had the opportunity to corrupt her mind when he had his mnemosurgeon pull her out of her stasis lock. Why else would he bother to save her if not to turn her into another one of his puppets?

Now that a Megatron had abandoned them, there was no one left to keep Starscream’s monstrous ambitions in check, and they were all being consumed by his insatiable hunger for power, while only Blast Off could truly see what was happening. Starscream had his spider weaving them all into his web, attaching them to strings to that he could tug at to make them do whatever song and dance he pleased. No Decepticon was innocent, but Starscream had always been one of the worst of their number, and he was growing more powerful every day, and part of that was Blast Off’s fault. Someone had to stop him. Someone had to do something. Something had to give-

Blast Off’s reverie was interrupted when he failed to notice the crowd passing Vortex over to him, who then fell on top of him while he was grasping a tall drink of engex in one hand and his favourite blaster in the other. Blast Off cursed and tried to wipe off the engex that had been split over him as Vortex got to his feet and threw the arm with the hand holding his blaster over Blast Off’s shoulder and raised what remained of his drink into the air with the other, “To the new Decepticon Empire!” Vortex cheered with tipsy exuberance.  

“Vortex, I don’t know how many you’ve had, but this isn’t a Decepticon victory celebration. Starscream’s not a Con anymore, and we’re still the losers,” Blast Off told him wearily.  

“Boring technicalities,” Vortex replied dismissively. “Megatron might have lost his ball bearings but Screamer’s gonna take us all the way to Phase 8! Whatever that one is...anyway, when we get there our glorious leader will be toasting to his conjunx out of the hollowed-out head of Optimus Prime while we party in the rain of Autobot energon!”

“Conjunx?” Blast Off asked in confusion.

“Windblade,” Vortex answered, as though it was obvious.

Blast Off buried his face in his hand, “Vortex, Starscream made her his co-ruler, not his conjunx; have you been paying _any_ attention at all?”

“Why would he make anyone his co-ruler if he didn’t want to share the romance of violent galactic domination with them?” Vortex asked, as though he genuinely couldn’t think of any other possibility.

Blast Off just stared at Vortex for a moment as he felt a processor-ache start to develop, before he simply turned back to watch the crowd, as he was supposed to be doing, without bothering to answer. Vortex quickly got bored and dived back into the crowd while yelling something about how love conquers all brutally and without mercy, and Blast Off felt his processor-ache worsen. Someone _really_ had to do something…

***

Wheeljack tinkered with the thumetikonic plasma resonator he’d been working on in his spare time as a screen in his lab broadcast the results of the election in the background. Wheeljack looked up from his work to catch Starscream and Windblade celebrating their victory amongst their supporters, and he gave his best approximation of a smile. He’d given them his vote, so naturally he was happy to see them win, but his joy at the results went deeper than that. When the war had ended, he’d decided to give Starscream the benefit of the doubt and a second chance, despite all the misgivings about the Con’s true intentions that came from both without and within him. He had wanted to believe that people could change if given the chance, and now Starscream has shown that the faith Wheeljack had uneasily decided to put in him hadn’t been misplaced.  

Wheeljack and Starscream had shared a strange, sort of awkward quasi-friendship over the last few years, and Wheeljack had been uncertain where exactly they stood with each other. He’d honestly wanted to support Starscream and offer him the companionship he clearly so desperately needed, but he also knew that part of the reason he was keeping Starscream close was not just because he thought of him as a friend, but also as a threat that had to be monitored. Wheeljack hadn’t had a friend that he felt compelled to hide braindead bodies from before (well...not for the same reasons anyway), and their whole dynamic hadn’t really seemed right. Now however, after seeing Starscream willingly share his power with another, Wheeljack felt more willing to really trust him, and therefore more able to possibly really connect with him as a result.  

There was a time when Wheeljack would have wondered if Starscream was capable of having such a connection with anyone at all, but as he watched him up the screen, it seemed to Wheeljack that he already had. Either that, or Starscream and Windblade were even better actors than Wheeljack had given either of them credit for, because the warm, friendly smiles they were giving each other seemed very real. Wheeljack was happy with the election results, happy that Starscream had come through for them, and happy to see that Starscream was no longer alone; Windblade was with him now, and Wheeljack would be there for him as well.  

***

Lightbright wasn’t sure how she felt. Relieved, she supposed, given that she’d never received any documents from Starscream that she was expected to use to ruin Windblade’s reputation; instead Starscream had only sent her a short message telling her that her assistance was no longer required and that Sparkstalker’s secrets were safe. But if she was relieved, why didn’t she feel good? She watched Starscream and Windblade celebrate their electoral victory on the main screen in her and Sparkstalker’s living room, now with firsthand knowledge of exactly what sort of things one of those leaders was capable of, and what sort of power he had to hurt her and her beloved should he choose. Windblade looked more radiantly valiant than ever as she smiled sincerely at the adoring followers that surrounded her, and Lightbright thought of how close she had come to betraying and perhaps even ruining such a genuine hero, leaving all of Cybertron at Starscream’s mercy. Shame mixed with resentment and fear within Lightbright, giving her sense of relief little room to express itself.  

“We always knew Camiens and Cons were a winning combination, didn’t we my glittering sparkshine?” said Sparkstalker cheerfully, as he snuggled into her side. “It was always going to be a Golden Age with you as my conjunx, but with these two in power working together, this might be the start of a Golden Age for everyone as well.”

Lightbright felt her spark glow at his touch and his words, but her feelings of love didn’t burn away the underlying sense of dread that now ate at her. A few days ago, her happiness and excitement about the future had been pure and overwhelming, but now her every moment was tainted by knowing what had almost happened, and what might still happen. She wasn’t living in a fairy-tale anymore.

***

Prowl watched the newsfeed from Cybertron with a deep frown; not only had Starscream held onto power, he had spread the hold he had on Cybertron to the colonies. Prowl had warned the other Autobots that if Cybertron was allowed to be in contact with the colonies, their homeworld’s corruption would inevitably spread, and here was the clear proof of what he’d been saying. Obviously Starscream would never sincerely share his power with anyone, so clearly whatever arrangement he had with the Camien was some kind of trick, although whether or not she was in on it was so far unclear. The intelligence Prowl had been able to gather on Windblade wasn’t deep enough to give him any strong indication as to whether she was more likely to be one of Starscream’s dupes or his co-conspirator (of course, she could very well be both). From what Prowl could tell, she was relatively young and very sheltered compared to the average Cybertronian, so it was very possible that Starscream had taken advantage of her naivety to make her believe she was his equal co-ruler when in reality she was his puppet. Whether or not she was aware of and in on the darker schemes Starscream kept hidden remained to be seen.

Prowl’s business on Cybertron was far from over; technically he still owed a debt to Rattrap for jailbreaking him, although keeping his word to that degenerate was hardly his real motivation. Starscream had to be stopped, otherwise the four-million-year war they’d fought to prevent a Decepticon empire subjugating the galaxy would be in vain. There was a very good chance he’d have to stop Optimus as well, since he’d clearly gone off the deep end with his annexation of Earth. On some level, Prowl always knew that he’d ultimately be up to him, if not to save Cybertron from itself, to at least save the rest of the universe from Cybertron. Still, he couldn’t do it alone, he needed help, he needed allies…he needed the Constructicons.

***

Javelin gave a small smile as she watched Windblade effortlessly charm her supporters even more than she clearly already had while she moved amongst them at her victory party. Feelings of love and admiration mixed with those of sadness and guilt as Javelin stared at the little screen in her tiny what-barely-counted-as-an-apartment. She’d been on Cybertron for almost a year now, and hadn’t told Windblade she was there, and she felt really bad about it, but then, she felt really bad about a lot of things. She’d told herself that Windblade had enough to deal with already without having to worry about her, but Javelin knew deep down in her spark that what Windblade would have wanted when she alone and struggling, especially after her exile, was a friend by her side. Javelin hadn’t been there for her when she really needed a friend, even though she could have been, and now the idea of facing Windblade felt even more unbearable.  

Maybe it was kinder to just let her go at this point, after all, it appeared as though she wasn’t alone anymore – the way she and Starscream looked at each other reminded Javelin of the looks she and Windblade had once shared. Windblade had a friend to stand by her now, and responsibilities that Javelin couldn’t even stand to fathom; the last thing she needed at this point was a shadow from her past appearing to dump all of its problems onto her. As her smile faded into sadness, Javelin turned off the screen, leaving her in the darkness of her tiny room.  

***

Airachnid watched election night unfold on one of the screens in her lab with a mild sense of consternation. While she was happy that her employer had held onto his power, which left her in a more secure position than the alternative, she was less happy about who her employer had decided to share his power with. She had been under the impression that she and Starscream had a certain understanding – a certain mutual recognition as it were; she thought they were both of a sort to not let insipid concerns about morality get in the way of what they wanted. So she helped him get what he wanted, and he helped her get what she wanted, and it was quite a comfortable arrangement for the both of them. However, ever since Starscream had ordered her to patch him into the then-Cityspeaker's mind so that he could risk his life to save hers, Airachnid had been coming to the realisation that he was not as unfettered as she’s previously believed. As she watched him up on the screen, she saw him look over at his new co-ruler with an expression of affection that was far too genuine for Airachnid’s liking. Clearly the Camien was not just a tool to used and discarded like the other bots Starscream had at his disposal, and this was problematic for Airachnid.  

If Starscream had the capacity for those sorts of soft feelings, there was a risk that he could grow squeamish about her methods and fancies, which would be a big problem for her and her passion project. What's more, the bot he seemed to have those soft feelings for came across as the type who was very much in the thrall of morality, unless Windblade was an even great charlatan than Starscream. If she had enough of a sway over Starscream to have him grant her almost half of his power, she was likely to influence him in other ways as well, and if she was indeed the gallant hero she made herself out to be, she wouldn’t stand for Airachnid and Starscream’s arrangement. Airachnid might not even have to wait for her to find out about it; if Windblade had Starscream’s spark in her hands, she could manipulate and weaken him further until he ended his relationship with Airachnid out of his own sense of pathetic guilt.  

Then again, maybe Airachnid’s concerns were premature. She never did get to send on the documentation about Windblade’s mental state that she’d prepared on Starscream’s orders, but fortunately her time hadn’t been wasted, as she never had to bother forging it. It turned out that, on closer inspection, Windblade’s genuine records happened to suit Starscream’s purposes just fine, not that he knew that. Starscream had cancelled the order for the documentation, so Airachnid saw no need to show it to him. She smirked, her consternation giving way to dark amusement (her preferred form of amusement); she hoped that Starscream’s new dear co-ruler was everything he wanted...and more.

***

Bumblebee hadn’t stopped grinning all night. He’d been grinning since before they’d even started counting the votes, because he was already certain of the results. For the most part, the thorough and forward-thinking plans Starscream had been developing for the progression of Cybertron and the colonies towards a prosperous future had slotted in very neatly with the powerful and sparkfelt words Windblade had written to express her vision of a better society. They’d run into a few disagreements when trying to mesh their ideas, and their planning had devolved into bickering more than once. But ultimately, they managed to put their differences aside and get the work done, because they recognised that their desires were the same where it mattered the most, and that they couldn’t let their relatively minor squabbles get in the way of seeing their dream realised. Bumblebee had already felt ecstatic when Starscream and Windblade had agreed to team up, and when he heard them go over the speech they’d synthesised together from their separate drafts, he knew without a doubt that they were going to win.  

When the time came for them to say their piece in front of the people, they did so with passion, confidence and clarity of purpose that enraptured their listeners, and as Bumblebee watched the audience, he could see that Starscream and Windblade’s ideas were resonating with them deeply. Then when they debated Elita, whenever she put one of them on the spot, the other was able to jump in with a clever response, while together the two of them were able to talk her into corners. Windblade used impassioned sincerity and idealism backed up by compelling arguments, while Starscream knew how to use both appeals to emotion and reason to weave a seductive case for himself and Windblade that doubled as an attack against Elita, peppered with enough snark to elicit titters from the audience. While Windblade remained the more decorous of the two, at one point after Elita replied to Starscream with a thinly veiled insult, Windblade jumped in with a cutting barb of her own aimed back at Elita, delivered with a sweet smile, which took the Carcerian by surprise and threw her off-balance. When that happened, Starscream couldn’t help but grin as widely and shamelessly as the invisible spectre at his side.  

Now the results of the election were in, and they were completely unsurprising to Bumblebee, but that didn’t stop him from grinning even wider. Since his death, parties usually made him feel melancholy, because he loved to party but his ghostly state meant that he was left out, but he had no room inside him for melancholy feelings at Starscream and Windblade’s victory celebrations, he was far too overflowing with excitement and joy. He didn’t feel left out either; Starscream couldn’t acknowledge his presence while he and Windblade were the centre of attention of course, but at points throughout the night, Starscream’s gaze met his and they briefly shared a smile, and that was enough to make Bee feel like a part of everything.

It was only after the party had wrapped up and Starscream and Windblade were returning to their separate apartments that Bee and Starscream were able to actually speak, but first Starscream and Windblade shared some words before they parted ways.

“Well that was a good start to our time in office together, let’s see if we can keep that up until the end of time,” said Windblade with a cheerful grin.

“Well aren’t we extravagantly ambitious and insanely confident? I approve,” replied Starscream with a smirk.

“I thought you might,” Windblade laughed. “But honestly, I do feel more hopeful than I have in a very long time, do you?”

“I do,” Starscream said with a stronger tone of sincerity than he had meant to let slip out, and then he quickly added, “but it will take much, much more than just hope to make this work.”

“I know,” Windblade replied, her expression now determined, “and I’m ready to give what it takes to create better worlds for our people.”

_Are you really?_ Starscream wanted to ask – while Windblade had proven that she was willing to do what needed to be done in some scenarios, Starscream still believed she was too fettered by rigid principles to go to the unsavoury lengths required to achieve true greatness. Fortunately, she had shown herself to be capable of evolution, so eventually she would come to understand what she had to do to get what they wanted, and she’d find the strength within herself to do it. Until then, Starscream would be by her side to do what she could not, and protect her until she was ready, and he would make sure that she was ready, sooner than later.  

He could challenge her claim and make her confront the weaknesses she’d have to overcome, and he normally wasn’t one to shy away from an opportunity to start an argument, but strangely enough, he just didn’t feel as though he wanted to fight with her right now. Now that they were working more closely than ever, he’d have plenty of opportunities to help free her from the shackles of moral indoctrination that held her back, but in this moment, he just wanted to enjoy this new amicability that had arisen between them. Interacting with anyone at all in this sincerely friendly manner was such a rarity for him, and his desire to savour the experience managed to overpower his usually irresistible compulsion to act like an aft.

“I look forward to creating those worlds together,” he told her, amazed at his own sentimentality.

She smiled in that way that he found increasingly disarming with each passing day, and then she moved towards him slightly, before she seemed to stop herself mid-movement. She paused in apparent uncertainty for a second, before she reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. Starscream looked down at where she was touching him in confusion – when he touched people it was usually either to threaten or manipulate them, but he didn’t get the impression that Windblade was attempting either of those things. It then occurred to him that this was probably a friendly gesture, which was the sort of thing he wasn’t used to dealing with. He supposed that he should reciprocate, so he reached out and touched her shoulder in turn. Then they just stood there for the next few seconds looking at each other awkwardly.

Windblade was the first to remove her hand as she averted her gaze with an embarrassed expression, “Er...heh...so...I’ll see you tomorrow then! Big day ahead!”

“Um...yes indeed!” Starscream responded as he quickly removed his own hand.

They stood there staring at each other again for another couple of seconds.

“So...bye!” Windblade said finally, and Starscream caught her grimace at her awkward and abrupt farewell as she turned from him and transformed.

“...bye,” Starscream echoed after her as he watched her fly away, feeling not entirely sure what exactly had just happened.

Bumblebee couldn’t help but snigger at this whole display, and Starscream shot him a look of irritation, “What are you snickering at?” he asked once he was sure no one was watching him.

“Oh, it’s nothing...” Bumblebee replied in between his giggles, and Starscream gave him another dirty look.

Starscream entered his apartment, poured himself a cube of energon, and then sipped it thoughtfully as he gazed out at the twinkling lights of Iacon. Despite looking no different than it had last night, it was somehow far more beautiful than it ever looked before – it seemed more alive with inviting possibilities. He felt…strangely light, as though he was in flight while still grounded. It was a vaguely familiar feeling, something he’d perhaps felt long, long ago, and mostly forgotten. He wondered if he’d be feeling like this more often from this point on.

The sense of wrongness that had plagued him after his confrontation with Rattrap was completely absent now – it had vanished the moment Windblade had taken his hand in her apartment. He understood now why it had felt wrong to plot against her when it had seemed as though there was no other way – there had been another way, a much, much better way, and now that he was taking that path, everything felt right.

“How you’ve handled all of this,” Bumblebee said to him, “has been… _incredible_. You found a way to serve the greater good without anyone having to get hurt along the way. I truly hope you’re proud of yourself Starscream, because I can’t begin to tell you how proud I am of you.”

Starscream was primed to read the worst into everyone’s intentions, yet even he couldn’t hear any condescension in Bumblebee’s voice. The minibot was completely sincere in his admiration and praise, and this was yet another experience Starscream was unaccustomed to. Because Bee’s words were genuine, Starscream’s usual snarky responses to the sorts of back-handed or self-serving compliments he was used to receiving were inappropriate, which left him at a loss for words, “I…I feel…thank you,” he finally managed, and it turned out showing gratitude wasn’t as painful as he thought, “and…thank you for warning me about Rattrap; if you hadn’t, everything would have fallen apart.”

Bumblebee just gazed at Starscream with an expression of deep fondness that Starscream simultaneously found deeply uncomfortable and extremely gratifying, before that expression slowly shifted to something more uncertain, and the minibot opened his mouth, “Starscream…you know that there’s no way you could have known what Rattrap was doing in that moment yourself, right?”

Starscream was silent for a moment as he and Bee stared at each other, before he responded, “I could have realised…I…no, no I couldn’t have,” he finally admitted.

“ _And you know what that has to mean?_ ” Bee replied, desperation in both his voice and optics.

Starscream paused for another moment, and then answered him quietly, “You’re not a part of me, and you never have been.”

Bumblebee’s optics widened, and his voice became a plea, “ _Please Starscream_ ,” he begged, “ _help me_.”

Starscream stared at Bumblebee’s face, which portrayed both hope and desperation in equal measure. He’d known the Autobot for millions of years, and over that time they’d caused each other so much suffering, and they’d nearly succeeded in destroying each other on multiple occasions. Yet those many, many eons of pain they’d inflicted on each other seemed somehow inconsequential next to the small handful of recent years they’d spent stuck together, forced to become something other than enemies. Starscream was no stranger to suffering, but the suffering he’d experienced over these last few years had been of a different sort to what he was accustomed to, and in some ways, that made it worse. But throughout these fresh pains, he’d had Bumblebee by his side, providing strange comfort and companionship, and that had simultaneously made it easier. As Starscream gazed at Bee’s face, he thought about how causing the Autobot pain had been his goal for so long, but now seeing him in pain somehow only caused him pain in return.

“I will,” Starscream promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Vortex when Starscream and Windblade won the election.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HMUDVMiITOU)


End file.
